Another Life
by Weiila
Summary: This is the sequel to Magus' quest. What if Magus had cracked under the Mystic's torture? Janus has to find out against his will, and other dark secrets lurk around the corner. As well as a small girl with blue hair...
1. Pawn of the mystics and Schaliya

Hey, would you look't that!? A sequel to Magus' quest! Yay! Just what we've all been waiting for!  
  
Wait a moment... there's something different here...?  
  
Yes, there is. The way I'm telling the story, for a start.  
  
First I tried to write this fused with what Schala had done looking for her little brother plus  
  
Lizard's (you know, the green guy, Ozzie's forefather!) story. It might sound like a good idea, but I  
  
figured those other two stories would make the major one far too confusing. They'll come later.  
  
Maybe. :)  
  
And I want to say thank you so much, Natt, for checking my grammar :)  
  
Well, before you fall asleep, here's the interesting part! And since I'm in a strange mood today, I  
  
hope the beginning of the story will make you very, very confused... he, he, he... all shall be clear.  
  
Eventually.  
  
And I don't own anything except the story and my own characters, the rest is all Squaresoft's!  
  
  
  
1 ***The Other Life and the Dragon***  
  
2 ~*~Chapter 1 Another life, three other titles ~*~  
  
I stand on the Zenan bridge, watching the sinking sun paint a blood red sky. To my right screams and other sounds of battle can be heard. I do not care. I will not interfere as long as there are no bigger problems. Which there shouldn't be.  
  
Slowly I look down and unclench my hand to see what I'm holding. A crystal, encircled by thin threads of gold. It seems to shine from within. I have this. It's mine. An amulet. But why do I have it?  
  
Why even wonder ? I know who I am.  
  
"We have a problem!"  
  
I look down at a skeleton. It's holding a spear in its bony grip.  
  
"What kind of problem?" I ask.  
  
"There are three warriors coming past our lines," the skeleton screeches, "you better take care of  
  
them."  
  
I turn to look, finding that many of the creatures I came with have fallen, and there really are three warrior's advancing over the bridge.  
  
"They are children," I say.  
  
"Well, they're not usual children!" the skeleton says, impatient, "take care of them, they're too much for us!"  
  
It staggers away. I put my amulet into a pocket and await the warriors.  
  
Two young women and a just as young man. He has pointy, red brown hair, is dressed in brown and yellow clothes. In his hand is a katana, which glows in the weakening sunlight.  
  
One of the women has a helmet with big glasses on her head, and in her hand is a weapon unfamiliar to me. It seems to shot small spikes at the monsters. The other woman is blond, keeping her hair in a ponytail. Her clothes are silly, puny and colored in a weak, green color.  
  
She holds a crossbow in a tight grip.  
  
They stop as the monsters move away to let me take care of the three.  
  
"Are you the commander of this pack?" the one with the helmet calls.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"No. But I am the one who will stop your advancing."  
  
"Don't mess with Crono or you'll be sorry!" the blond one grin.  
  
She's secure in herself. I guess that the young man is Crono. He's not saying anything, but yet it feels as if he asks me who I am.  
  
I unsheathe my sword, ready to fight them back.  
  
"You might have heard of me," I tell them, "I am called the Pawn of the Mystics."  
  
The blond one frowns and nudges Crono's arm.  
  
"Be careful," she hisses to both her friends, "it's that weird magician guy that Leene warned us about!"  
  
"Frog too!" the one with the glasses growls.  
  
I say nothing. There's nothing I have to tell them.  
  
But a skeleton behind me gives a screeching laughter.  
  
"You might have fought many of us back," it sneers, "but here you will meet your end, petty warriors! Nobody has ever been able to defeat the Sword of the great Ozzie!"  
  
"Well, we'll be the first then!" the one with the glasses grins.  
  
She fires a needle at me, but I simply bend my head aside. My speed seems to amaze her, and the  
  
few skeletons that are left laugh.  
  
The man named Crono watches me, frowning.  
  
Maybe he's about to say something, but before that another skeleton screeches:  
  
"Just because we're in a good mood today after all, we give you one last chance to give up and get a quick end."  
  
"Oh, cut it out, you freaks," the blond one sighs.  
  
The sound of undead chuckling send claws through the air.  
  
"Silent fellow, isn't he?" the one with the glasses mutters, looking at me with slight disbelief.  
  
I don't move a muscle. Why wouldn't I be quiet, then? Should keep silent, not to irritate...  
  
My thoughts drift away. My mind seems to turn numb somehow, and I don't care. I'm used to it.  
  
That always happens when I'm thinking such silly things.  
  
"Then die here!" a skeleton snorts, "take care of them, Magus!"  
  
I am...  
  
"Uncle Janus!"  
  
Somebody's touching my shoulder. I open my eyes, watching the shadow bending over me . And the  
  
Zenan bridge disappears at once. As easy as that.  
  
"Schaliya?" I mutter.  
  
"Art thee well, uncle?" she asks, with her young voice filled with worries, "Molor came to get me, to  
  
awaken thee..."  
  
Molor...?  
  
I sit up in my low bed, looking down at her in the moonlight. The cold rays of moonlight flowing  
  
through the curtain are reflecting on her blue hair and her small, green eyes. Why is she looking at me like that? Why is she always calling me "uncle Janus"?  
  
I will never understand her, I cannot understand...  
  
She knows nothing about me. She doesn't know Magus. She doesn't know whom, what I am.  
  
And she's not asking. And I don't want her to ever know, because that would be even more painful than if her mother would know everything I have ever done.  
  
Yes, she is my niece; Schala and Cered's daughter. She's only four years old, so innocent and fragile...  
  
I put my hands on her cheeks; my fingers are as long as her small face and her warmth is almost burning my cold skin. But she doesn't seem to feel any coldness. I know that I could snap her neck as easy as I take a breath, and that knowledge makes me feel sick. I know that Magus could have killed her without hesitating if he didn't know who she was. And I was him only a few years ago. How many children like her have I brought death? Children... like her...  
  
Schaliya... how can she call me her uncle? How can she dare to give me such a name, or title? I was never an uncle, I wasn't meant to be that... I was Magus.  
  
I was.  
  
She asks me to be, and she doesn't even know about it.  
  
I cannot understand...  
  
She is Schala's daughter. Reminds me of her mother. And yet, she is a completely different life force.  
  
I always thought that the only one I'd ever care for except myself would be Schala. But Schaliya is... making me so confused. She is a child. What did I ever care about children?  
  
Why does she always call me her uncle...  
  
I am not an uncle. That's for someone else, anyone but me. It's not my world. And Magus inside of me is shouting that it's silly and stupid that I even mind. Maybe he's right. But...  
  
I can't seem to leave this village anymore. Before Schaliya was born, I traveled around the whole planet with Molor, not searching for something, just unable to get rid of my feeling of agitation. Maybe I dared to do so because I knew that Schala would be fine anyway, and in any case I could return immediately if she called for me. But now... I can't leave. I cannot leave Schaliya. I feel no restlessness anymore. I feel...  
  
Needed?  
  
Magus is almost roaring at such thoughts.  
  
Fool! What have you become?!  
  
I cannot leave Schaliya. Why I can't explain, not even to myself. But I cannot leave her.  
  
Maybe I'm worried about her.  
  
Worried? Me?  
  
She's so small and innocent. And she trusts me. How can she do that? Only because she doesn't know...  
  
I never thought that it was possible for me to feel guilty like this. Not even Schala...  
  
Magus watches me in disgust. He cannot understand how I ever could change the slightest and even try to turn my back on him. I try, but I can't. I have all his, no my, sins weighing on my shoulders. And if I ever wished that Schala never would know, it's nothing like what I feel for Schaliya. She mustn't ever get the slightest clue...  
  
She's so innocent. She trusts me. I think that if I took my scythe and charged at her, she wouldn't even raise her hands to cover her face. Because she trusts me. And I cannot understand how she can do that.  
  
"I just had a nightmare," I tell her, putting my hand on her small shoulder, "I'm fine."  
  
"Oh," she says.  
  
She's silent for a short moment. Then she speaks again.  
  
"But when I suffer a nightmare, I always cry or scream because I am so scared."  
  
She can't even speak out R properly. It always sounds like J. And her Ns sound like ng.  
  
"I cannot scream," I calmly tell her, "that's why I don't do it."  
  
"Why then?" she asks, puzzled.  
  
"It's just the way it is," I say, standing up on the floor, "and you should go to sleep, little one."  
  
Magus snorts scornfully as I lift Schaliya from the floor and begin to carry her back to her room. And I cannot ignore him. Why do I have to answer to him?  
  
Because I am you, he says.  
  
I am Janus.  
  
Yes, but he is also lord Magus. You cannot hide it forever. You are the Dark Prince, no matter what you and everyone else says.  
  
I wish that I could kill him. I've killed so many others...  
  
No. I'm done with that. If I ever kill again, it will be to protect others or myself. Schaliya.  
  
She mustn't ever see me kill. Because she believes that I can't do that. And I don't want her to realize that she is wrong. All too wrong.  
  
Little one, resting her head sleepily against my shoulder...  
  
Idiot! Magus growls, she's a danger to you! Look what she's doing to you; turning you into a sentimental fool! Is that what you fought and trained for?  
  
That little Janus who Ozzie found, he never dreamed he would be what he was forced to become. He never wanted to be someone like... me.  
  
But now he is, I am even dreaming about what I could have been.  
  
Pawn of the Mystics.  
  
Another life.  
  
A Magus who broke instead of rising to his feet.  
  
I live that life, day by day, night by night. In my dreams.  
  
And I hope that Frog will bring that Magus death. Then, maybe, the dreams will stop. He doesn't  
  
have a mind of his own, he doesn't even remember what happened before he became a...  
  
Slave.  
  
I almost shudder of disgust. Because that could really have been me, holding the sword that doesn't  
  
fit my hand, obeying the command of a skeleton because I have the orders of... my master.  
  
I hold back a wish to grit my teeth.  
  
Magus. Why didn't you kill Ozzie that day when you threw him from the throne? Why didn't you  
  
cut Slash's throat when you defeated him in battle, holding the scythe? Why didn't you concentrate  
  
Dark Matter into a final killing blow, finishing Flea off?  
  
He doesn't answer at first, because he hates the dreams just as much as I do, so much that he looses  
  
his normally untouchable balance.  
  
To see them humiliated, of course, he finally say, to let them know that their worm became their  
  
master.  
  
Of course.  
  
I open the door to Schaliya's room.  
  
"Now sleep," I tell her and drape the blanket over her small body as she lies down in her bed.  
  
"But what if thou dreamest again?" she asks me.  
  
What can I answer to that? She actually cares for me. Like Schala and Molor do. I can  
  
understand why they care.  
  
But never, never can I understand Schaliya.  
  
"Then Molor will awaken me," I say and straighten up, "don't worry."  
  
"Good night, then," she mumbles, still with a trace of worry in her voice.  
  
"Good night."  
  
As I close the door behind me, Molor is waiting for me. The corridor is so dark that someone with  
  
less dark sight wouldn't see him at all. I don't even need to see him, for that matter. I can always feel  
  
where he is.  
  
'Why her?' I ask him, 'why not you?'  
  
'Better,' he answers me.  
  
We never use many words to communicate. We understand each other anyhow.  
  
'Schala,' I say.  
  
'No. Schaliya.'  
  
'Not know, better. Too young.'  
  
'Suffer.'  
  
I have no answer to that. He can enter my mind, I never forbid him to. I can enter his, too. He  
  
knows about the humiliation and pain I experience.  
  
'Yes,' I finally say.  
  
I probably won't sleep anymore tonight. But I can't help wondering if Crono, Marle and Lucca  
  
could defeat the other Magus at that early rate, when they weren't as strong as they are now.  
  
I hope so.  
  
I want him to die. I have to pity him. And I don't want to live his life every night.  
  
But, on the other hand, who would save Schala, Molor and Cered from Dalton, then?  
  
That Magus would never have been able to help them. It's better that he dies. Maybe Crono and the  
  
women can help them in that time stream, while looking for the boy's mother and cats... I have no  
  
hopes about that Magus.  
  
Let him die.  
  
Frog, do me that favor. You could not kill the Dark Lord. Then kill the Pawn of the Mystics.  
  
I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream. But I cannot stay awake forever.  
  
In the early morning light a few birds cross the sky, their silly squeaking being the only sound apart  
  
from the whispering of wind in the trees. Molor lies silent by my feet, the light of the sun lazily  
  
reflecting in his black scales. My eyes are resting on the houses that lie across the open area around  
  
the well, but I'm not really looking at them. Only sitting on the bench by the wall of Schala and  
  
Cered's house, resting my back against the wood behind me.  
  
I can't sleep. I don't want to.  
  
From the first moment I close my eyes, I live another life. And there was a time when I used to  
  
think that living with the memory of all the pain was torture enough... yet that Magus isn't exactly  
  
suffering. He doesn't feel anything. He's nothing at all. Nothing. And I am him, every night.  
  
He might not suffer, but I do. I feel the humiliation and rage that he is unable to experience. I have  
  
to live with having masters every time I dream. I have to live with the fact that I'm taking orders from  
  
Ozzie whenever I'm not awake.  
  
I can't even remember when I began to dream, neither what the first dream was about. It feels as if  
  
I have been tortured by the other possibility forever.  
  
There's some muffled noises coming from inside of the house, and then the sound of a door  
  
opening and closing.  
  
"Cered," I say, emotionless.  
  
He comes around the corner, trying to hide a yawn behind his hand.  
  
"Good morning brother, Molor," he mutters.  
  
Brother. He calls me brother. Makes me almost as confused as when Schaliya calls me uncle. Of  
  
course, it has grown from "brother in law", which he called me those first two months he and Schala  
  
were married. Then even his grip of words gave up for laziness.  
  
But the fact is still that he's calling me brother.  
  
"You're up early," I say, still with no real emotions.  
  
"Yes."  
  
He sits down on the bench too. Molor moves his tail aside, otherwise he doesn't show any greater  
  
interest.  
  
It was fine with me to just have my kindred spirit as company, but with all the anger my dreams  
  
invoke I'm actually a bit relieved to get something else on my mind.  
  
"Why are you out so early?" I ask, stretching my legs a little.  
  
I wonder how long I've been sitting here... my feet were beginning to turn a bit numb.  
  
"I hath some troubles sleeping," he simply answers.  
  
"I see."  
  
"And why art thee awake this early?"  
  
"I have also troubles sleeping."  
  
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn't drop a comment.  
  
"I see," is all that he says.  
  
He turns his eyes at the sky, which is still red and purple with the sunrise.  
  
"'Tis a peaceful moment," he says.  
  
"Yes."  
  
It's true... no battles on the Zenan bridge in my wake world...  
  
I clench my teeth.  
  
Molor says nothing. There isn't anything he can say to ease my inner rage.  
  
"Maybe we should train a little some day," Cered says, without any genuine interest.  
  
"Perhaps. At least your magic power."  
  
There haven't been any monsters showing up in a long time. They have finally understood that  
  
they better stay away from a village housing three people who are all great warriors and magicians.  
  
"Is my magic called for?" Cered asks with a small smile.  
  
I almost smile back. At least I ease my grim look a little.  
  
"Maybe I'm just curious about what heights you can reach," I tell him.  
  
"Oh, I understand."  
  
Cered is without doubt the most powerful Fire-magician I have ever encountered. He learnt the  
  
spell known as Flare hardly five minutes after he was granted magical powers, and even though it's  
  
the strongest Fire spell I know he can do it without straining himself at all.  
  
But since then he hasn't learnt anything new except the only thing I was able to teach him,  
  
probably because he hasn't been battling enough. Magic is learnt through studies or battle to invoke  
  
old, inherited instincts, and studies won't suit my brother in law. In fact, there's nothing I can teach  
  
him about Fire and Light; the powers he has in his hands. I can't use Light, and he is beyond anyone in Fire. The only thing I have taught him was the second level spell of Fire magic, simply called Fire2. It's a silly name, come to think of it. But I guess a researcher in Zeal named it and all other second level spells that. Such people have little imagination...  
  
But the thing is that just about everyone who is specialized in a magical element can use one extremely strong spell, which almost no one else can use. I have Dark Matter, Schala has Luminos, Crono has Luminaire.  
  
The fact that Cered can use Flare so easily shows that if he must have his ultimate power still slumbering inside. And if I know him correctly, he will amaze all of us.  
  
I look down at Molor. He hasn't really shown much magic at all. He can spit black flames, and we have our combined spell that I named Dark Lightning. But otherwise... he's still got a few things to bring out.  
  
'Truly, friend,' he mutters to me, with a snake's cold smile.  
  
I send him a similar smile.  
  
"Hey, you three."  
  
All three of us look up at Schala, who stands smiling by the house's corner.  
  
She still insists on wearing her battle clothing. I can't say that I agree to the fullest about it being proper, but I guess she's got the right to decide. And would she listen, anyhow? No, I doubt it. She does what she wants and takes no orders nowadays. So different from the timid and calm sister I used to have back in Zeal. And I'm very proud of her for that change.  
  
"Why are you sitting here?" she says, still smiling, "come on, the breakfast is waiting."  
  
"How come we art all up so early this morning?" Cered says as he stands up, shaking his head.  
  
"That way more day is provided, I suppose," I say without really considering it.  
  
"Wise words, brother. And see here, 'tis my little girl too!"  
  
With a laugh Cered bends down and lifts Schaliya in his arms as she emerges from behind her mother, dressed in her usual, purple dress. She giggles and places her arms around her father's neck.  
  
"Good morning, uncle Janus!" she cheers, nailing her small, bright eyes onto me.  
  
I just can't help smiling when she does that...  
  
"You're spoiling her, carrying her around, dearest," Schala points out, but with nothing but tenderness in her voice.  
  
"The daughter we share, be she not too fair not to hold now and then, sunlight?" Cered smiles.  
  
I silently watch the three of them smiling at each other. I am a part of their family; they are the  
  
closest allies and friends that I'll ever find, apart from Molor. But what Schala and Cered feel for  
  
each other will never be in my reach. And I don't need it either.  
  
Humph. Glenn and the others just had to tell me about how Ayla healed me after Flea's attack in  
  
Guardia castle... but they agreed on never speaking about it in my presence again. Of course, it took a  
  
bit of... convincing. Those who once fought me and then fought with me should still be happy that I  
  
have such respect for Schala and her opinions.  
  
I prefer not to think about that occasion.  
  
'Stop smirking,' I tell Molor.  
  
'Would I?' he answers.  
  
But he is still doing it.  
  
I look at Schaliya again, resting safely on her father's arm. And an unwelcome chain of thought  
  
infiltrates my mind.  
  
I never knew my father. But anyhow, I never needed him. I had Schala. Even after mother died, or  
  
stayed alive without her soul, I still had Schala. She and Adulfus, my cat who she saved with the last  
  
of her strength from the falling Ocean Palace, together with Marle, Frog and myself, as Magus. Those  
  
two were the only ones I had. I lost my mother, and I never knew my father.  
  
On the other hand, no one knew my father.  
  
My father is not Schala's father, because he died five years before I was born.  
  
And at least as far as I know nobody except our mother knew whose child I am. And she never told  
  
anyone. I don't know, and I don't care.  
  
I never had any use for a father, and frankly, he obviously never saw any use of me.  
  
I never knew, I never cared. I never minded. But sometimes I can't help wondering. Yet, I can't  
  
recall anyone in the kingdom of Zeal who it possibly could have been. My guess is that it was  
  
somebody who didn't survive my mother either. Very few good things are left to remember about  
  
queen Zeal, and I'm not sure if the fact that she was a true survivor is something for her favor.  
  
Pha! Magus snorts from his lair inside of me, she is dead. She is long gone. Why do you even think  
  
about her? Don't you have anything better to do?  
  
And what would that be, may I ask?  
  
Doing something about your growing weakness, for instance, he sneers, and you know well from  
  
where that comes. That little girl who you allow to call you silly things...  
  
When he speaks to me about such matters I feel an urge to take out my scythe and end his  
  
existence. Even if that would mean ending my own.  
  
He easily sickens me when it comes to Schaliya.  
  
I would rather bow in front of Lavos than break a hair on her small head.  
  
You are a fool.  
  
Shut up.  
  
'No listen,' Molor says, concerned.  
  
'I wish,' I reply, grimly.  
  
'I know Magus too. He would not harm Schala's daughter.'  
  
That is true...  
  
'Then who is he, who would?' I ask.  
  
'Perhaps one last grain of pure evil. But not Magus.'  
  
He's got a point.  
  
But whatever it is, I will still name it Magus. Because that name represent everything that I have  
  
left behind.  
  
"Come on, Janus," Schala warmly says, unaware of my inner torments, "there's a newborn day  
  
ahead."  
  
"Yes."  
  
The sun is still only rising. And there's a full day in front of me.  
  
To the fullest I value each moment of this life that I live as I am awake. Because I know what  
  
happens every night. I loose my life, my mind, my soul, my pride. Everything. And I can't understand  
  
why.  
  
Perhaps it's the revenge of all evil powers in this world. After all I am a traitor. It's a hard path to  
  
wander. The darkness despises me, and the light fears me. I can use Shadow, the evil magic. But I  
  
don't belong to it anymore. I can also use many other spells. But the power I am dedicated to is not  
  
mine to the fullest anymore. It's an empty feeling. I can cast Dark Matter and other Shadow spells,  
  
but they aren't completely in my hands. Magic can be simply an element to harness power from, but I  
  
lived in Shadow for many years. Now I don't. And I'm not exactly missing it, but something is  
  
wrong. It doesn't accept me in the same way. It's hard to explain...  
  
Like holding a sword when that is the wrong weapon for you.  
  
I clench my teeth, following my sister, brother in law and niece back into the house.  
  
It doesn't really matter now... I haven't needed to use magic in quite some time and there's a whole  
  
day before the next night.  
  
And nowadays I know that there's a morning after every night.  
  
I'm already looking forward to the next dawn... 


	2. The dragon's first appearence

~*~Chapter 2 Charash~*~  
  
My head is thrown aside, and I feel blood trickling down my neck. I don't try to dry it.  
  
"I am sorry, master Ozzie," I mutter.  
  
"You are sorry?!" he shouts in rage, "three kids manage to knock you down, you good for  
  
nothing, worthless..."  
  
I do not tell him that the kids destroyed half the troops I was sent along with. He hasn't asked me.  
  
"Well why didn't you just blow them away with some magic!?" Ozzie growls at me.  
  
"Because Flea hadn't given me the allowance."  
  
He slaps his forehead, much softer than he just slapped my face.  
  
"Sometimes I believe we beat you up a few times too many, Magus," he mutters.  
  
I don't ask what he's talking about. Have I ever been beaten by master Ozzie? Not as far as I  
  
remember. My memory is only filled with obedience. I always obey them. What else can I do? Was  
  
there ever anything else? No, no... what would that have been? I shouldn't ask such questions.  
  
What a stupid question. I've always been their servant.  
  
"I think it's the sword," master Slash's voice grumbles, "no matter what I do he can't use it to the  
  
fullest."  
  
"I ask for forgiveness," I say.  
  
"Humph."  
  
'Friend, awake.'  
  
I open my eyes.  
  
Molor.  
  
'Fine,' I mutter to him, rubbing my forehead.  
  
Why do I even bother trying to convince him that my mind isn't boiling with rage? I'm about to  
  
explode. If Ozzie was still alive, I'd find him and make him wish that he wasn't. But he's dead. Well,  
  
he's not even born yet. Pity... a true pity.  
  
I could of course travel in time and make sure that he never will be born. But that would alter  
  
history, and after all I have got all my strength from my time with the Mystics. Whether I liked it or  
  
not. And indeed, I did not like it.  
  
I sit up, gritting my teeth. My right hand wanders to the leathery plate covering my torso, the plate  
  
that hides all my scars.  
  
Damn it all...  
  
My breathing sound like hisses, but Molor says nothing. He knows that I don't want him to. This is  
  
my own, lonely battle. And I don't even know how, if possible, I can fight.  
  
It's nothing but torture to sleep nowadays. The humiliation I suffer is cutting through my twisted  
  
soul, wrapping itself around my once ice cold heart and trying to make it break of rage.  
  
It takes me a few moments before I calm down and can lie back again. But I have no wishes to  
  
sleep again tonight. On the other hand, lying awake doing nothing doesn't sound very tempting  
  
either.  
  
I close my eyes for a moment.  
  
Somebody's screaming, outside. I hastily sit up again as Molor rise up from the floor in surprise.  
  
There's another scream, and the smell of something burning reach my nostrils as the whole house  
  
shakes by an unearthly roar.  
  
I rush to my feet and reach for the curtain, which is glowing in the growing light of the rising sun.  
  
But before I have time to touch it, I hear Schala's voice.  
  
"Janus!"  
  
I spin around. She stands in the door, breathing hard as if after a run. Her hair is a mess of blue  
  
curls, and she's only dressed in her nightgown.  
  
"What is it?" I ask.  
  
"Janus, you have to come!" she gasps, "it's a dragon!"  
  
"What?"  
  
At very rare times, I become amazed. It hasn't happened many times, I could probably count the  
  
moments on the fingers of my right hand.  
  
But dragons, they don't exist!  
  
I rush out of the room, grab my cloak from the wall and wrap it around my neck even as I follow  
  
Schala through the corridor to the stair and then through the kitchen, through the door and... outside.  
  
Half the village is burning, people are fleeing out of the houses and running away from the giant  
  
shadow covering the sun.  
  
It really is a dragon.  
  
It's filling up my sight, dirtily blood-red, enormous. Its powerfully flapping wings themselves are  
  
bigger than Schala and Cered's house. With a single flaming breath, it lit three more houses, just  
  
about ten yards from where I'm standing.  
  
Dragons don't exist, but that one looks pretty real anyhow.  
  
And it's almost ironic.  
  
I know that dragon. I have heard about him, much in the same way I learnt about Lizard, the first  
  
king of Mystics. Ozzie grumbled about it once, when the power of the monsters was at subject.  
  
"If those stupid ancestors we had back then had been smarter," he said, "they would have joined  
  
forces with the great Charash and crushed the petty humans right there! Then we would have been  
  
ruling long ago!"  
  
That was when I lied about "creating" Lavos for the very first time. I needed to work on  
  
summoning him alone, without questions and interruptions. The lie spared me a lot of time. But that's  
  
irrelevant now.  
  
"Charash."  
  
Schala looks at me, puzzled.  
  
"What?" she says, eager to help out stopping the fire.  
  
"The great dragon Charash," I absentmindedly explain, "but I didn't believe he was real."  
  
"Dost not ponder that now, brother!" Cered says as he rushes past me, holding his katanas in his  
  
hands, "we musteth take action!"  
  
"Stop, Cered!" I growl and grab his shoulder, "if it's true what I remember, then magic is useless  
  
against him. And I doubt those katanas of yours will harm him when he's up there."  
  
"What canst we do, then?" he grimly asks me.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"I don't know. I really don't know that."  
  
A thought cuts through my mind.  
  
"Where's Schaliya?"  
  
"I am here, uncle Janus," her young voice says.  
  
Behind Schala, nervously looking at the burning village. My tense mind relaxes a bit at the sight of  
  
her, safe.  
  
"Thou wilst not allow the dragon to hurt anyone, will thee?" she asks me and her father.  
  
"Of course not," Cered say, as usual good at sounding steady and calm as a rock.  
  
Unseen to her, he gives me a look that's more or less screaming "well?!". But I don't know. I do  
  
not know how to kill a dragon!  
  
How was he stopped due to the legend? I frown, trying to remember.  
  
Brave heroes, of course. I'm very close to rolling my eyes. Always brave, anonymous heroes. And  
  
they probably wielded a sacred, magical sword too...  
  
One moment...  
  
"The Masamune," I mutter, "I have to get Glenn..."  
  
"Look out!" Schala screeches.  
  
An enormous flame is coming our way, turning the air around it into melting waves of heat. I hear  
  
Schaliya scream.  
  
"Out of my way!" I snarl at Cered and throw him backwards, reaching for my cloak.  
  
It was some time ago that I used my scythe. The monsters don't dare to come here anymore. Some  
  
time... I find that I've missed the grip of my weapon, and a wave of something that I thought I had  
  
banished from my soul rise within me. Blood thirst. No creature, fabled or real, will even scare my  
  
niece and live on!  
  
Magus within me smirks. Ah, perhaps your weakness can be turned to strength again...  
  
Shut up.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Water!" I rabble, so fast that I hardly can hear it myself,  
  
then begin to hurriedly chant the words in old Zealan.  
  
Ice.  
  
Blade.  
  
Cold.  
  
I leap forward and raise my scythe, its blade turning white with frost. With two cuts, fast as  
  
lightning bolts, I cleave the flame in four smaller pieces. The heat is forcing sweat from my forehead  
  
and I cannot breathe, but I have to ward off the remaining danger.  
  
Ice.  
  
Wind.  
  
My cloak and hair flaps in a tornado of icicles, dancing around my body. The chilly winds force  
  
the flames to dissolve.  
  
All happening in a few seconds.  
  
Oh.  
  
I never experienced intense heat followed by icy cold before. It's not very pleasant.  
  
Gasping for air I sink down on one knee, with my skin and head burning as the two shocks clash.  
  
"Janus!"  
  
"Uncle!"  
  
"I'm fine..." I mutter, getting to my feet by leaning on the scythe.  
  
But I suddenly feel empty.  
  
Something's wrong. I miss something. A part of me seem to be gone... Molor?  
  
Molor isn't here? Where is he...?  
  
I look around, feeling an extremely rare sensation of pure panic. I cannot feel his presence! For the  
  
first time in almost five years, I am parted from my kindred spirit. It feels like I've lost both my arms.  
  
If I can't feel his presence, then could he be...? No, he was right behind me! But where is he, then?  
  
"Thou say that thou art really fine?" Cered says with a frown, "thee dost not look all well."  
  
I shake my head, still searching for Molor. But he's gone.  
  
He can't just disappear!  
  
"Janus, pull yourself together!" Schala demands in a harsh voice, "we have to stop the fire!"  
  
Fire? Oh, the fire.  
  
I can't even remember how it was to fight without Molor anymore. But now I have to. I have to  
  
find him later.  
  
Charash is still flying around above the village. He seems to smirk. Finding it amusing to burn  
  
people inside their houses.  
  
You have done that too, Magus points out.  
  
Shut up.  
  
"Powers of the world, I bid of thee to lend me the power of Water!" Schala shouts and begins to  
  
chant.  
  
While she calls for a flood, I call for winds. As water starts to flood from around her feet, towards  
  
the fire, a strong wind begins to blow. My creation throws Schala's making up above the ground,  
  
sending streams of liquid over the houses in a stream that doesn't cease before only smoke is left of  
  
the fire.  
  
"I see there are magicians left in this world," a loud, growling voice smirk.  
  
I risk looking up, even though my concentration could shatter. Charash is examining me and the  
  
others around me, looking rather amused. But as his cold, yellowish eyes turn at me, the amuse  
  
expression disappears. I cannot hold the winds as those big eyes stares at me, measuring. It seems as  
  
if he is trying to reach into my mind, and I can by no means allow that. I have to concentrate on  
  
putting up a barrier against him, unable to care about the village. The winds falter and disappear.  
  
"Janus!" Schala says in an unsteady voice as she feels me battling the dragon.  
  
Ugh.  
  
Nobody will ever pierce my mind, understand?  
  
He's strong, but I'm not a warlock for nothing.  
  
I have to stop that glowing needle...  
  
"Fascinating..." Charash finally mutters as he realizes that he cannot penetrate my will.  
  
I have to take a step backwards as he leaves. It wasn't easy to fend him off. I'm going to suffer the  
  
worst headache of my entire life after this.  
  
"Remember this, puny humans," the dragon smirks, turning to the shivering townspeople watching  
  
from the brink of the forest, "Charash, the king of Dragons has come to claim this world for his  
  
people."  
  
And with that he shoots upwards, then leaving for the north.  
  
"Janus, art thee alright?" Cered asks, putting his hand on my shoulder.  
  
"I'm fine, we have to take care of the blasted fire..."  
  
I have felt more pleased than this in moments of my life. More powerful too. But I force my mind  
  
into focusing, creating new winds to help Schala's water. As the fire finally is gone I'm about to fall.  
  
But Molor rushes forward and rises up to give me support.  
  
Resting my arm on his neck, still holding the scythe with the other hand, I look at him in tired  
  
confusion.  
  
'Where?' I ask him.  
  
At first, he doesn't answer me. And when he does, it's most unwillingly.  
  
'Hid.'  
  
Normally I'd ask him why on earth he'd do that, but it feels as if my head is about to blow up.  
  
Ugh.  
  
I suddenly notice that Schaliya is watching me in a strange way. And I realize that she never in her  
  
four years of existence have seen me wielding my weapon of choice, nor seen me fight.  
  
"Something wrong?" I mutter, unsure if I really want to know.  
  
For all the powers of the world, she's a four year old girl! I have murdered, I have been  
  
the king of terror, I have without blinking faced the horrifying parasite of the planet; Lavos. But I  
  
don't know if I could take the loathing and fear of this small, blue-haired child.  
  
Isn't it ironic?  
  
"Thou wert so brave, uncle Janus!" she suddenly exclaims and rushes forward, since I'm  
  
crouching reaching up to throw her arms around my waist.  
  
Why.  
  
Is.  
  
She.  
  
Doing.  
  
That.  
  
My scythe hits the ground and Molor bends away as I sit down on one knee and takes her small  
  
head between my hands. Should I embrace her? I can't do that. I have only embraced Schala once, in  
  
Dalton's fortress, when she finally realized who I was. But I can't embrace her again, nor her  
  
daughter. I can't explain why. I just can't. I don't know how.  
  
"Are you alright?" I ask her.  
  
She nods, even though I'm carefully holding her head.  
  
"I am all well, uncle. I thank thee."  
  
Cered's child, from top to bottom.  
  
I try to smile a bit, but my head calls for attention.  
  
Ugh.  
  
"Uncle Janus?" I hear Schaliya call, as if far away.  
  
Feel almost like I did when Lavos blew me away like a fly in the Ocean Palace...  
  
See? Magus sneers within my mind, you have become weak. And it's that girl's fault, can't you see  
  
that, you fool?  
  
'Don't listen,' Molor's voice tells me, cutting through the pain and Magus' sneer.  
  
No, you're right, my friend.  
  
Schala and Cered help me to stand up. It seems like the townspeople are approaching to thank us,  
  
but I hardly notice.  
  
"Legend," I mutter, "he burned all the towns of the world, then left and came back again. And again.  
  
Like a cat, playing with a mouse before..."  
  
"Come, brother."  
  
Cered places my arm behind his neck to give me support stumbling into the house. Schala stays to  
  
take care of the neighbors.  
  
You weakling! Magus snorts.  
  
Damn, he tires me!  
  
Cered leaves me by the low kitchen table (I never really understood what the people of this era  
  
have against chairs) and starts to go through some of the cupboards of the room. Schaliya sits down  
  
beside me, watching me warily.  
  
"I'm alright, little one," I mumble, trying to sound convincing, "don't worry about me."  
  
"If thou say so..." she says, but she's not sure at all.  
  
"Here."  
  
Cered places a glass of something in front of me.  
  
"We hath no healing potions for the time being," he says, "I will get some for thee from healer Taron  
  
at once. But that will have to do right now."  
  
Normally I'd ask him what this "that has to do right now" is. And I'd also smell it before I drink  
  
it, out of habit. But I'm too exhausted after the heat and cold shock, and the mind battle with  
  
Charash. So I just take the glass and empty it.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
My head almost hits the ceiling.  
  
"Curse you, Cered! What was that?!" I choke.  
  
"I'd say about forty-eight percent alcohol," Schala says, wrinkling her nose as she enters the kitchen.  
  
"Only for emergencies, love," my brother in law says with an avoiding smile.  
  
"I do hope so, dearest."  
  
This isn't going to be remembered as the most glorious day of my life. Good grief...  
  
What? Did you think that I was used to alcohol? May I point out that I am the kind of man who  
  
needs his head to be clean and clear all the time. I do not need any mist to fill my mind.  
  
I straighten up, holding my palms on the table for support.  
  
"Take it easy, Janus," Schala warily warns me.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"I have to go and get Glenn. I'm pretty sure we need the Masamune to take care of Charash."  
  
"You're far too exhausted for time travel!"  
  
"I'll manage..."  
  
I can't hold back a small groan, massaging my forehead. No. I haven't got any time for being tired.  
  
The faster I get Glenn, the better.  
  
"Who be Glenn?" Schaliya asks, puzzled.  
  
Hmm. They've never met. I haven't seen Glenn for over four years. Of course me, Schala and  
  
Cered have been talking about going to see him, many times. But somehow, it just hasn't occurred.  
  
Now would be a good time, though.  
  
"A good comrade," Cered tells his daughter with a smile.  
  
"Oh. What did thee say about time travel, mother?" the child goes on, naturally curious.  
  
I exchange glances with Molor, Schala and Cered. Is this really the right moment?  
  
My sister slowly nods.  
  
She might not understand to the fullest, but it's better that she gets an explanation than just sees me  
  
and Molor disappear through a dark, sparkling hole in thin air.  
  
Cered sits down and lifts Schaliya from the carpet, placing her on his knees as Schala begins to tell  
  
her.  
  
"This might be a bit hard for you to understand," Schala gravely says, "but me and your uncle, we don't really belong here. We come from many, many years in the past, from a kingdom that was  
  
destroyed."  
  
Schaliya's eyes are wide with fascination, but she doesn't question her mother. She's in an age  
  
when everything that grownups say must be the truth.  
  
"And you see," Schala continues, "your uncle is really twelve years younger than me, not only two.  
  
But we were both lost in time due to an accident, and when we finally found each other he had  
  
already grown up."  
  
"How can that be?" Schaliya asks, unable to grasp the complicated ways that the time works in.  
  
"It had to do with the time's flow," her mother try to explain, even though it's very hard to put it into  
  
words, "I know it's strange, but anyhow he had become older than me."  
  
"And this Glenn is a man I learnt to know in the era where I was thrown," I tell my niece, "which is  
  
in a very distant future. Over five thousand years from now."  
  
"Oh. Who is he?" Schaliya ask, turning her fascination from the wonders of time travel to more  
  
personal things.  
  
It often surprises me how... accepting the child is. If we adults tell her something, in most cases she'll believe that it's nothing but the truth, and nothing can budge that belief. She's curious,  
  
bubbling with questions. And when she's got an answer that she's satisfied with, she's got another query.  
  
"A brave knight," Cered smiles, "and a great swordsman. Also the guardian of the queen in his time and general of his king's army."  
  
And a frog. At least until not too long ago.  
  
I have to smile at the thought, but don't speak it out. I think Schaliya has got enough for the  
  
moment being. Plus, if she asked me, I might even tell her that it was I who turned him into an  
  
animal. Maybe when she's older... I could say that it was an argue between him and me that caused  
  
an accident. It would of course be a lie, but at least only a half one.  
  
Never mind that now. I have to go and get him.  
  
Since I've been resting a few minutes, I'm strong enough to stand up again.  
  
"Are you sure that you can manage?" Schala asks, rather skeptical and worried.  
  
"I'll be fine."  
  
I raise my hands and begin to chant. Since time travel isn't based on an element, I don't have to ask  
  
the mystic powers of the world for power. I just chant the spell.  
  
Travel.  
  
Time.  
  
Far away.  
  
Concentrate on the year 601 AD, autumn.  
  
That should be a couple of months from when I brought him to visit Schala and Cered's wedding,  
  
from Glenn's point of view. I turned him into a human so that he could find a wife and make sure that  
  
Crono would be born, and hopefully he hasn't found a love yet. Right now I haven't got the time nor  
  
the nerve for arguments about leaving or not.  
  
The Gate opens in front of me, and I hear Schaliya yelp for surprise. I send her a calming smile and  
  
then steps into the flashing darkness, Molor right behind me.  
  
It was long ago that I rushed through the strange corridor of time, aiming straight forward not to  
  
get lost. Never take another turn. I did that once, a long time ago, and I ended up in Ozzie's clutches.  
  
My lips form a growl by the memory.  
  
Hmm. Now I have time to remember last night again.  
  
I missed the battle with Crono. Some time seem to pass in my dreamed world and its time stream  
  
even when I'm awake. And all that Magus could remember was that the three youngsters charged at  
  
him. Guess the hit he got in the back of his head robbed the memory. I also assume that Flea or Ozzie  
  
teleported him to safety. After all, they have used a good part of their lives to turn him into the tool he  
  
is, so they want to keep him alive as long as possible.  
  
The Zenan bridge is crossed. Then it can't be long before Crono and the others have teamed up  
  
with Frog to stop the Mystics. Or maybe not? After all, they learnt that I "created" Lavos, and  
  
therefore they came to stop me.  
  
I sigh, bitterly. How long will I have to live every night as a damn slave?  
  
But Ozzie's crusade must be stopped. Frog can't allow that villain to run an army as he pleases. I  
  
hope.  
  
No. Frog will take action, and Crono and his friends will help him.  
  
That Magus did kill Cyrus, and turned Glenn into Frog. However, all on Ozzie's order. But I know  
  
that knight. He might not come rushing yelling only my old name, but he will come. Sooner or later.  
  
And I do hope that he'll bring the Masamune.  
  
'End,' Molor points out.  
  
With a nod I turn my concentration towards the end of the tunnel. 


	3. The danger of teadrinking...

~*~Chapter 3 Wanted; better table manners~*~  
  
I step out in the year 601 AD. And into a snowstorm. Something apparently went wrong.  
  
'Must hide,' Molor growls.  
  
He can't stand cold. I hold up my cloak for him, and he dives into it. When he's gone and safe I  
  
reach for my time crystal. But before I've got it in my grip my feet begin to burn, and I have to throw  
  
my gaze downwards.  
  
Oh, I forgot my boots in my room in 5300 BC.  
  
What's the matter with me today... these kind of trivial things just never happens to me! Except  
  
today. I guess I can blame the loss of sleep I have suffered for a very long time and the sudden battles  
  
a short while ago. Still, it's inexcusable!  
  
Growling I chant a spell of creation and simply call forth a new pair of boots, saving my skin from  
  
the cold. Now then. Finally I get my time crystal from its pocket and can check when I am.  
  
Calling for a small flame, I study the information the small orb provides.  
  
21 November, 601 AD? I was aiming for autumn! And for the castle, too. Must be getting  
  
rusty... or maybe it was the alcohol combined with my exhausted mind. In any case, I made a stupid  
  
mistake.  
  
Maybe I should back a few weeks... no. It doesn't really matter, and I don't want to risk more  
  
mistakes. It's not good to take chances in time travel; I try not to practice it when I'm irritated. And I  
  
am getting very frustrated.  
  
With a snort I hide the crystal in the cloak again and wrap the cloth around me as I begin to walk  
  
through the dark forest in the glowing sky's last light. After only a short while I have to summon  
  
another flame to light my way.  
  
Well, at least I didn't end up too far from the castle. It's no long walk.  
  
"Halt! Who goes there?" the guards by the castle gate yell as they see me and my flame.  
  
I guess that in the puny light, they believe that I'm holding a torch. I almost smile as I approach.  
  
They stare at me as I come up the snowy stair, allowing the flame to dissolve since there's light  
  
spilling out of the window's of the castle. I guess that I look like the grim reaper himself with my  
  
cloak dark with molten snow and my hair stuck against my head, behind my pale face. Or maybe  
  
something even worse than the reaper.  
  
(Author's note:  
  
A funny fact here would be that in Sweden we simply call the grim reaper "liemannen" = "the  
  
scythe man", or preferably "the man with the scythe". :) )  
  
"Y-you?!" one of the guards stutters.  
  
It seems as his companion doesn't know who I am, but he's getting nervous of my grim look and  
  
his companion's reaction. I have to drop my irritation a little.  
  
"I don't remember storms like this one," I calmly say with a cold smile, "but on the other hand it was  
  
a while ago that I was here."  
  
"What... err... what is your business here?" the informed man stutters, about to turn flat against the  
  
wall behind him.  
  
I can't help enjoying the look on his face. Not because he's scared half to death, but because he  
  
looks so pathetic all in vain. Of course, he cannot be aware that I have stopped killing every human I  
  
encounter.  
  
"I wish to see general Glenn," I tell him.  
  
He swallows hard.  
  
"I guess... it would be alright."  
  
"Good. Why don't you show me the way?"  
  
He's too afraid to say no. As we enter the castle I call Molor out of my cloak.  
  
'Funny?' he smirks at me.  
  
'Indeed.'  
  
I just can't help it. The sight of the guards nervously backing away brings me no feeling of guilt,  
  
only slight amusement. Only when it comes to Schaliya I feel guilty.  
  
"Your Majesties, there's a visitor..." the guard before me rather hoarsely announces as he enters the  
  
throne-room, almost walking backwards in fear that I'll strike him from behind, "for Sir Glenn..."  
  
King Guardia XXI and queen Leene rush from their thrones, staring at me with a mixture of  
  
surprise and shock. Glenn, who was talking to the queen as I entered, looks around in surprise. He's  
  
the only one who smiles, a bit surprised but still he does it.  
  
"L-lord Magus?" the king gasps, almost causing a pair of less informed guards to recoil through the  
  
walls.  
  
"Good evening," I say with a twitch of my lips, "this time it is extreme circumstances that brings me  
  
here."  
  
"And that would be?" Glenn says, smirking in his special, friendly way, "what is it that thee cannot  
  
compete alone?"  
  
I give him a cold look, but it's not honest straight through. It's refreshing to hear that impudent  
  
little warrior's voice again. Oh, he's not small anymore, of course. But I'm still half a head taller than  
  
him.  
  
"This," I say and snap my fingers.  
  
An illusion isn't very hard to create. I don't even have to chant.  
  
Charash is standing on the floor, not as big as he is in reality; only as long as Molor from nose to  
  
the tip of his tail. Still he is impressive. Like a statue, and yet very alive.  
  
"But that's a tale!" a soldier stutters.  
  
I nod.  
  
"So was my belief," I say, "but he is tormenting the time where I'm dwelling. He almost killed  
  
myself, Molor, my sister Schala, her husband Cered and my niece Schaliya."  
  
"Thy what?!" Glenn almost chokes.  
  
They are all staring at me with disbelief, and slightly surprised I realize that I find that even more  
  
amusing than their unnecessary great fear for me.  
  
"My niece," I repeat with a snort and sarcastically continues; "it's what you call the daughter of your  
  
sibling."  
  
In the corner of my mind I notice that Molor refuses to look at the illusion I've created. His  
  
behavior puzzles me. It almost seem as if he fears the dragon, but he doesn't want to tell me why.  
  
Somehow I want to believe that it's because they both are reptiles, but a nagging feeling of doubt tells  
  
me that that's not it at all. But I can't force him to talk. There are places in his mind closed to me. He can't enter all parts of my mind either.  
  
I haven't got time to ponder those things now.  
  
"Getting back to the subject," I sharply say, "as I remember a group of heroes, who's names are lost, banished the beast from our world. But magic cannot harm the dragon Charash. And, I understand, not regular weapons either."  
  
"Oh, I see..." Glenn says with a small smile.  
  
He turns to Leene and sits down on one knee.  
  
"My liege, I ask of thee to allow me to go," he says, lowering his head.  
  
She heavily sighs before she gives her answer.  
  
"I don't want you to leave on such a quest, but I guess I cannot stop you, Glenn."  
  
"No, no, my liege," he smiles as he stands up, "never would I go forth without thy permission."  
  
"Wouldn't you?" I sneer.  
  
"I dost not recall that thee recently hath saved my life, dark wizard."  
  
With another smirk Glenn touches the hilt of the Masamune, hanging by his belt.  
  
"Shalt we leave, then?" he says.  
  
I nod and dissolve the illusion of Charash before I open a Gate. Without a word I enter the corridor of time, followed by Molor and Glenn.  
  
As they step out of the Gate behind me, I'm already examining the time crystal. Hmm, I managed to get the date right this time. Except that now it's evening. And we're on the road north of the village, not in the house I left. Oh well, it's not a long walk, I can see the rooftops of the village from here. Those that burned have almost stopped smoking by now.  
  
"Thou look a little different than I remember thee," Glenn says behind me.  
  
"It's been nearly five years in my point of view, to be honest," I absentmindedly say.  
  
"No," he smirks, "I was considering the fact that thou art wet all over."  
  
I had forgotten that the snowstorm had left me rather dripping. Good that my reputation is one that's not touched by such minor things.  
  
With a snort I snap my fingers again.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Fire..."  
  
Warmth.  
  
Wind.  
  
My clothes and hair dry in a warm tornado dancing around me. There.  
  
"Come on, we have to get going," I say and begin to walk without looking around.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
He falls into my pace, smiling absentmindedly. I guess that he's looking forward to see Schala and Cered again. And to meet my niece.  
  
I'm almost about to chuckle.  
  
Magus really despises me in such moments, but for once I'm able to ignore him.  
  
"Tell me, my mind wishes to recall that the people of this era were protected by dragons..." Glenn says.  
  
I nod. Yes, that's true.  
  
"So it is," I tell him, "but those are better ones. Charash is different. He exists, for one."  
  
He nods without a word.  
  
There's no people outside of the houses, and those that have burned stands dark and silent. But candles shine in the windows of the homes untouched by the fire.  
  
"I see thee hath suffered greatly," Glenn says.  
  
"He hit and left," I grimly mutter, "playing."  
  
"I see."  
  
I show him the way to the right house and push the door open.  
  
"Schala, we're back," I call.  
  
Seems like they've taken in some of the people that lost their homes. There are two men and women sitting by the kitchen table, and I recognize them as married couples. But right now I'm not in the mood for caring about names. I've had enough for today, and I've only been awake for about one hour.  
  
"Welcome back," Cered smiles, leaving the table to come over to me and my companions, "and thou art truly greatly welcome, Glenn."  
  
"'Tis been some time since we last met, my comrade," Glenn smiles back and takes his hand.  
  
Schala puts the teapot down and also walks over the room to greet us.  
  
"Thou seem to be well, my dear friends," the knight from the seventh century warmly says as Schala grabs his hands with a smile.  
  
"Thank you for coming," she says, "we canst really use your support."  
  
Glenn throws a glance at me and chuckles.  
  
"Thou speaketh about it as if I hath a choice."  
  
I snort, but can't help smiling.  
  
"Go and have some tea," Schala says, "I'll tell Schaliya that you've returned, Janus."  
  
With a nod I go to sit down by the table. The four guests look a bit nervously at me, but they don't say anything. Well, I am the mysterious magician, the silent and eternally pale brother of Schala. The man who talks with the great black snake. Humph.  
  
Glenn sit down beside me, talking with Cered while my brother in law offers him a cup of tea. The general from the future is just taking a mouthful of the liquid as Schaliya rushes in, only dressed in her softly blue evening tunic.  
  
"I was so worried about thee, uncle Janus!" she exclaims and runs over to me.  
  
And if there hadn't been a wall in the way, Glenn's tea would have ended up on the other side of the village.  
  
"I am -cough- so -cough, cough- sorry -cough-, Schala -cough-," he chokes and takes the scouring cloth from her hand as she approaches with a smile dancing on her lips.  
  
"Be that the comrade that thee left to find, uncle?" Schaliya asks after placing herself on my knees (I can't stop her), a bit disbelieving.  
  
Glenn makes a sound similar to the choking of a man getting strangled, and his knuckles turn white above the cloth. Cered and Schala exchange amused glances, and I feel Molor smile in his cold, silent way. But myself, my left eyebrow move a little. Nothing more. Even though I'm surprisingly close to laugh.  
  
The four visitors watches the knight as if he was slightly mad, but he doesn't care about them at all.  
  
"Is something wrong, Sir?" Schaliya asks, puzzled.  
  
Glenn looks around, with a twitching smile.  
  
"No, I am all well, young lady," he says, "but I bid of thee to excuse me for a moment."  
  
He leaves the cloth on the table and crosses the room, opens the door and exits out into the deepening evening. But even though there's a wall between him and we who are left in the room, all of us can hear him laugh.  
  
After half a minute I sigh and pass the puzzled Schaliya over to her mother.  
  
"I'm just going to turn him into a mackerel," I say and leave the room, "I'll be right back."  
  
Me and Molor find the great swordsman leaning against the wall of the house, shaking with laughter.  
  
"Are you going to fool around the whole night?" I ask, managing to sound cold.  
  
He grins at me.  
  
"'Uncle Janus'!?" he exclaims between two explosions of laughter, "that title be thine to carry? God, my stomach..."  
  
I don't have to tell Molor to do anything. He just hisses in a way that sound like a question, and I know what he serves me.  
  
"No, I don't think he's healthy to eat," I say, "we'd need to cook him for a few hours..."  
  
Glenn snorts and attempts to pull himself together. He manage after four tries.  
  
"Oh, there be no need for thee to prove thyself..." he gasps, now working on regaining his breath, "I  
  
knoweth well that thou art rotten to the core, and nothing shalt touch that belief."  
  
"Much better," I say with a cold smile that twitches a little.  
  
My amusement dies.  
  
"But one word about Magus to Schaliya," I grimly say, "and I shall hang you from the branches of  
  
five different trees."  
  
He nods, still smiling though.  
  
"I understand, Janus. My lips art sealed."  
  
"Truly? If I could only believe 'tis true..."  
  
I clear my throat, and his smile grows again.  
  
"Living in this era isn't healthy," I mutter, "come on, let's get inside. And quit giggling."  
  
"'Uncle Janus'..."  
  
"One more word and Leene will find herself with a very scaly and drenched guardian."  
  
"Oh, I am truly shivering with fear."  
  
As we step back inside the four guests have left the room, certainly to sleep. I can hear some low  
  
sounds from the living room, to the right of the stairs when you leave the kitchen. Schala and Cered  
  
must have hastily remodeled that room into one suitable for guests when these circumstances arose.  
  
Schaliya is looking at Glenn, still confused.  
  
"What was it that thee found amusing, Sir?" she asks.  
  
He manage to smile and keep the laugh down, not allowing it to break free again.  
  
"Thou art truly Cered's daughter, young lady," he says with a smile, "and thou may name me Glenn.  
  
And for the amusement, 'tis a matter between thy uncle and me."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She tilts her head, probably mimicking somebody she knows.  
  
"Art thee truly a warrior of the future?" she wonders.  
  
Glenn and myself sit down by the table again; Molor lies down beside my feet. He seems willing  
  
to rest for a while after this peculiar day. I feel the same. One hour, and I'm exhausted. Seems like  
  
my mind took a fair hit from Charash.  
  
No, Magus snorts, you're just loosing it completely. Weakling.  
  
Shut up. I am not weak.  
  
Really? What you have experienced today is nothing in compare what you used to take with only a  
  
snort earlier.  
  
I silently sigh. Maybe he's right. But that won't stop me from trying to get rid of him permanently.  
  
I am no longer Magus.  
  
'Not listen, friend,' Molor concernedly say.  
  
'Trying,' I reply, unable not to sound a bit bitter.  
  
"I hath some skills in battle, indeed," Glenn smiles at Schaliya.  
  
"My uncle and my father and mother art also strong warriors," the child proudly say, "and Molor too,  
  
but he is a snake."  
  
Glenn smiles, and so does Schala and Cered. I have to follow, even though my lips don't move as  
  
much as theirs. Molor chuckles in his dry, silent way.  
  
"I hath experienced the joy of battling by their side," Glenn nods, "thou speaketh the truth about  
  
them, young lady."  
  
Schaliya smiles broadly, but then she yawns and leans her head on her mother's shoulder.  
  
"It's late, little one," Schala softly says, "can you sleep now that your uncle is back?"  
  
The small girl nods sleepily. Her mother also nods and leaves the room, carrying the small girl in  
  
her arms.  
  
"My best wishes," Glenn smiles at Cered, "and so young but yet so skilled at speaking..."  
  
"I believes that 'tis something she hath inherited from both sides of the family," Cered grins and  
  
gives me a glance, "is that not true, brother?"  
  
Glenn's eyebrows make a hasty journey.  
  
"I hath to ponder if I will ever dare to drink something in this house," he calmly says, "only luck held  
  
back another disaster."  
  
I sigh.  
  
"I wonder what I was thinking when I got the idea to bring you here, pest," I mutter.  
  
"Never would I enter the dark paths of thine mind," Glenn grins.  
  
He clears his throat and turns away from joking.  
  
"Well then," he says, "let us leave the games. How canst we find and fight this dragon?"  
  
Molor, who has kept his head at the same height as my hands until now, suddenly lie down on the  
  
floor. Resolutely, somehow. He doesn't seem willing to have a part in this battle. I won't ask him,  
  
because I sense that he doesn't want me to. I trust him to have his reasons.  
  
"Do you know anything about the legend about Charash?" I ask Glenn, "I can only recall that he was  
  
terrorizing the population for a while before a group of heroes banished him from our world again.  
  
And that magic was worthless against him."  
  
Glenn rubs his forehead, trying to remember.  
  
"Lend me a moment..." he mutters.  
  
"He said something about that he was the king of Dragons, didn't he?" Schala says in a low voice,  
  
entering the kitchen and sitting down again, "and that he had come to claim this world for his  
  
people."  
  
"As if it didn't have enough problems with Lavos..." I mutter.  
  
"He came for a bride of royal blood...?" Glenn suddenly says.  
  
We all look at him.  
  
"Pardon?" Cered says.  
  
Glenn shrugs his shoulders.  
  
"'Tis very long ago I heard the story, and 'tis surely not the real one considering how much time that hath passed. I canst only recall that phrase."  
  
Cered frowns.  
  
"But what is the meaning?" he asks, "there be no female dragons here, neither royal nor plain."  
  
I just shake my head. I've had enough for today.  
  
On the other hand, sleeping doesn't feel very tempting either.  
  
What a dilemma...  
  
"I guess we can't do anything right now since we have no idea where Charash is," Schala says, "we'll have to wait for him to show himself."  
  
"Not a pleasant way to face battle," Cered says with a frown.  
  
I stand up.  
  
"I have to rest," I say, "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
"Are you alright, Janus?" Schala asks, frowning.  
  
"It's nothing," I say even as I cross the floor, "just tired."  
  
I go up the stair, leaving them. Cered and Schala will tell Glenn about all that happened this morning, and they'll be talking about everything else that have happened in these four years. I'll leave it to them to tell the knight. I'm not the kind of man who bothers about such things even when I'm in a better mood than now.  
  
My brain feels as if it's made of rotten wood. Charash managed to do something when we battled, I have to face it. I don't make so many mistakes as I've done today if nothing is wrong.  
  
Molor crawls on beside me, silent.  
  
We pass Schaliya's room, to the right. Facing her room is Cered and Schala's. My and Molor's room is just a few steps away, in the end of the corridor.  
  
Ugh...  
  
I blink. Thought everything seemed strangely blurred for a moment...  
  
Slowly I raise my hand and rub my eyes. I notice that Molor is watching me, with something that can replace a frown for a snake.  
  
'Know wrong?' I ask him, with a feeling that he knows a lot more than he wants to admit.  
  
'Nothing,' he resolutely mutters and crawls into our room.  
  
It bothers me. He's never been acting like this. He's my kindred spirit, but suddenly I can't understand him. I doubt that anyone can understand how it feels, and I cannot explain it properly. Maybe loosing a part of the own soul is the only thing close enough.  
  
I enter our room to find him in a silent tower of one single muscle. He doesn't want to talk.  
  
Clenching my teeth I throw my cloak on a chair and sit down on my bed, placing two fingers from each hand against my forehead. I must find out what Charash did as he tried to examine my mind. He did something else, and it's lightly said important that I find out what it was.  
  
Whispering I begin to chant.  
  
Mind.  
  
Entrance.  
  
Search.  
  
My body falls aside on the bed as my mind turns into one glowing sparkle, standing in the stained bubble that is my soul. I hear a hiss, and Molor appears beside my mind.  
  
'What wrong?' I ask him.  
  
He doesn't reply at first, and small grey spots immediately blemish the already partly dark bubble around us as I become even more concerned.  
  
Molor shakes his head.  
  
'No worry,' he mutters, 'tell later, friend.'  
  
'Very well.'  
  
The spots disappear. I trust him.  
  
I look around. There is something that is wrong. I have to find it; fast.  
  
Molor's mind follows mine as I float forward, passing short memories stored in my soul. Some darker, some lighter. I try to ignore them all, not concentrating on any of them. I cannot risk getting lost, not even here. I'm not looking for memories, I'm searching for whatever Charash did...  
  
Pulsing, as the beating of a heart...  
  
The bubble has a blue tone, but there's angrily red threads... they shouldn't be there. On the outside of the soul, not trying to infest it. Reaching out to what's around it.  
  
Grey spots appear again, I hurry on. Molor keeps following me.  
  
The pulsing sound becomes louder as we move forward.  
  
It looks like a partly black heart, flaming, infected red. It hangs on the wall of the bubble, pulsing and growing more and more threads for every beat.  
  
None of the threads reach for my soul, only for...  
  
My body.  
  
The grey spots are growing to stripes.  
  
'What is this, Molor?' I sharply ask him.  
  
No reply. He only watches the dark heart.  
  
'Charash?' I ask him.  
  
He seems to sigh.  
  
'His doing, friend,' he grimly answers.  
  
'What is?'  
  
'Gift.'  
  
'Remove?'  
  
'No.'  
  
He slowly shakes his head.  
  
'No remove.'  
  
The grey stripes explodes.  
  
'What?' I silently shout.  
  
'No cure,' Molor says, looking away, 'forbidden.'  
  
'What is?' I ask, 'why?'  
  
'It's a gift,' he says, emotionless, 'give you chance.'  
  
'Chance? What?'  
  
'To live when humans die.'  
  
I look down at him, very confused. I have no idea what he's talking about, and I don't like any of what he has said. He seems to sigh again.  
  
'It's your soul, friend,' he grimly says.  
  
'What about my soul?' I ask.  
  
He suddenly hisses in rage and attacks my mind. I have no possibility of defending myself, taken off guard and at first too shocked to understand what he's doing.  
  
Molor.  
  
You cannot.  
  
Attack.  
  
Me.  
  
But his powerful mind hits mine, which is left defenseless of shock and is forced backwards. Away from the dark heart.  
  
My eyes fly open and I stare up in the cold, yellowish snake eyes of my kindred spirit, still too shocked to even move.  
  
'Forgive,' he whispers in my head, 'I must protect you. Sleep.'  
  
From his mouth a black thread crawls, disappearing into my forehead before I have time to react.  
  
'What are you...!' I try to scream at him, but my mind is fading away.  
  
I am falling, I cannot hold on...  
  
A growl grows inside of my chest.  
  
Let me handle this! Magus shouts inside of me, for a moment dragging me from the abyss.  
  
It's tempting, if I only...  
  
No... not even Magus can fight Molor. I can't fight him, not in any way. I'd rather fight Schala. Why is he doing this?  
  
'Friend,' he says, from somewhere above, 'trust me.'  
  
Why...  
  
I fall. 


	4. The pawn crumbles

~*~Chapter 4 Freedom for the Pawn~*~  
  
Sunlight hits my eyes, and I open them slowly. For a moment I can't even remember who I am. My head feels completely empty. Then it all crashes down on me, burning lumps of realization.  
  
Molor!  
  
He raises his head as I sit straight up and look down at him.  
  
'Why?'  
  
I can hardly produce the mere thought.  
  
He doesn't give me the answer in words, but by giving me a piece of his own memory. I see my own mind's shocked look through his eyes, feel his hate for his own actions; the actions he had to go through with. He gives me the knowledge that he has done what he can about Charash's gift, even though it's strictly forbidden. He doesn't tell me why it's forbidden or how he could know how to cure it just a little bit. But I now know that he had to drive my mind out of my soul and place me in a suspended mode so that he could work on the infection. He has no regrets, but he's definitely not proud. It took him a lot of strength to attack me, so much that I'm amazed that he managed. For him it was like committing suicide.  
  
He takes his experiences back again after showing them to me.  
  
My trust in him weakened for a moment.  
  
He knows. He understand.  
  
It won't happen again. But...  
  
'What is gift?' I ask him.  
  
'Done too much,' he says, bitterly, 'no tell. Forgive.'  
  
At first I don't answer him. But in the end I have to accept his will.  
  
'Yes.'  
  
'Thank.'  
  
He's done what he can. I don't know what he has done or why he can't tell me the whole story, but I have to trust him. I never warned him when Flea and Slash unveiled my progress growing to Magus, forcing him, as well as Schala, Cered and Glenn through a painful shock. But he never accused me for not giving him a smoothening warning. We have to trust each other.  
  
There's a knock on the door.  
  
"Janus, art thee awake?" Glenn's voice call, "Schala wanted me to tell thee that the breakfast is awaiting."  
  
"We're coming," I answer and hear his footsteps leave on the other side of the wood.  
  
Slowly I rise from the bed, all the time watching Molor from the corner of my eye. He watches me too. But we don't say anything to each other. There's nothing to say.  
  
I take my cloak and wrap it around my neck. Yes, I do sleep in my clothes. And I do have things to change to now and then.  
  
But I seldom remove the leather plates that cover my scars. You should understand my reasons.  
  
Molor follows me down to the kitchen. Only my niece and my sister are there. Schaliya smiles broadly as she sees the two of us, and she sends a piece of bread flying through the room. My kindred spirit catches and swallows it. That's another thing that's a bit peculiar about him; he eats human food. As far as I know, snakes normally only eat things they have killed themselves.  
  
I silently sigh. My trust in him is still damaged; I'm even wondering about his normal behavior. But I have to accept what he think is the right thing to do.  
  
And considering his behavior... I doubt that anything could be my kindred spirit and completely normal.  
  
"Good morning, Janus," Schala says, trying to smile even though she obviously is worried, "you're a bit late..."  
  
"I'm fine, Schala," I calmly say.  
  
I don't know what it is that Charash have planted in me, and I don't want to scare her nor Schaliya. Maybe when I know what's happening I can tell my sister... at least something. Schala will hopefully understand and keep from asking anything further.  
  
"How's the village doing today?" I ask, absentmindedly reaching for the small basket of bread.  
  
"Rebuilding," Schala answers, "Glenn is helping healer Taron to take care of the injured ones. And  
  
Cered is working with the buildings together with almost everyone."  
  
I could say something about that there's no real point with rebuilding, because Charash will come  
  
back to destroy even more. But they'll rebuild anyhow, and I don't really want to plant any feeling of  
  
hopelessness.  
  
"I think somebody should be on watch out for Charash," Schala says, "maybe that's something that  
  
you could take care of."  
  
I shrug my shoulders. Why not...  
  
"Very well."  
  
A short while later I leave the house, just after eating a piece of bread. The whole population of the  
  
town are out to work on the damage. I see Cered over by Shadarak's wasted house.  
  
Being on "watch out for the dragon"? Have you no pride left at all?  
  
Shut up, Magus.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of wind," I mutter.  
  
Call forth.  
  
Strong.  
  
Carry.  
  
Molor disappears into my cloak as it begins to flap in a sudden whirlwind. My feet leave the  
  
ground and I float up high above the trees surrounding the village. From up there I can see miles  
  
around. There's almost nothing but forest to the east and north, cut through by broader roads. To the  
  
east are hills, and to the south is the ocean. And Charash went to the north.  
  
I really doubt he'll return today, but it's best to stay on guard.  
  
Molor says nothing. Neither do I.  
  
As I float high above everything else, I can't help starting to think about my dreamed life. I missed  
  
one night of it thanks to Molor. Even though his attack was far much worse than my dreams...  
  
Come on, Frog. Come! Take care of that Magus' miserable existence!  
  
I have enough to do in the real world.  
  
No enormous body passes the sky, and after a couple of hours I cannot keep up the wind-spell any  
  
longer. Slowly I return to the world. Molor does the same.  
  
Schaliya is sitting on the bench by the wall of Schala and Cered's house, swinging her short legs  
  
and silently touching her right ear with her fingers. As I come closer with Molor by my side she looks  
  
up for a moment, smiles hesitantly and then looks down again. I sit down by her side. She keeps  
  
swinging her legs and examining her ear. My kindred spirit silently lies down on the ground.  
  
None of us say anything for a while.  
  
Then Schaliya suddenly realizes that I've grabbed her hand, the one that was by her ear. She looks  
  
up at me. I look back.  
  
"Well?" I say.  
  
"Why are my ears strange?" she asks.  
  
Sometimes she is able to at least partly leave the way of speaking that is used by the people here  
  
and talk as I and Schala usually do. My sister has begun to become more and more influenced by  
  
Cered at times. I fight my battle to stay civilized.  
  
Irrelevant.  
  
"It's your ears," I say, "there's nothing strange about them."  
  
She pushes her hair away with her free hand, revealing the pointy ear.  
  
"But Sean said that they art not normal," she says.  
  
Note to me; one boy with webbed feet ordered.  
  
"You shouldn't care about what Sean says," I gravely tell Schaliya, "you should never care when  
  
anyone says something like that."  
  
I point at my own ears, which my hair is unable to hide.  
  
"I have the same kind of ears as you, and your mother too."  
  
"But thee are the only ones," she says, "and father does not carry such ears."  
  
"In the time from which me and your mother come, almost everyone had these kind of ears."  
  
"Why then?"  
  
I lean back against the wall.  
  
"The people back then used magic everyday, and that changed us," I explain, "it's just like it is with  
  
my eyes being red."  
  
"Art we half-elves?" she wonders.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"Elves only exist in fairytales. At least on this planet. They might very well exist in other worlds."  
  
After all, Charash was also a fairytale for all that everyone knew until now...  
  
"Why would you wonder about that?" I ask her.  
  
Schaliya seems relieved.  
  
"So we don't snatch babies, then?" she says.  
  
I raise one eyebrow.  
  
"Did Sean tell you that too?" I ask.  
  
"No..."  
  
She looks at her swinging legs.  
  
"Anar and Garod did."  
  
"And they were together with Sean when they said it, didn't they?" I say, emotionless.  
  
She nods.  
  
"Any others?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Humph."  
  
"Uncle Janus?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
She looks up at me, gravely.  
  
"Could thee turn them into tadpoles? Just for a while?"  
  
I am well aware that my lips are twitching.  
  
She knows that I can use magic, but it's the first time she ever asked me to do it for her. And  
  
something like that? Tsk, tsk... and somehow it's still innocent. "Just for a while".  
  
"I could," I say, "but I'm afraid that your mother would be angry with both of us."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She looks at her legs again.  
  
"'Tis too bad."  
  
"Yes," I nod.  
  
I release her hand.  
  
"Of course," I say with the shadow of a smile, "I am able to turn them into anything. But  
  
they don't know that I don't want to anger your mother."  
  
She looks up at me and grins, catching my point. I send a small smile back at her.  
  
"The next time anyone picks on you, come to me or your parents immediately, understand?" I say,  
  
"because nobody is going to think that they are any better than you just because they are a couple of  
  
years older and have plain ears."  
  
Her smile dies and she turns back to her legs.  
  
"They will just call me a crybaby..." she mumbles.  
  
"Then let them call you that," I say, "what others think of you isn't that important."  
  
She looks a bit puzzled.  
  
"But should I not bother what thee and mother and father thinks of me, then?" she asks me.  
  
What questions she delivers. To me, of all people of the whole wide world.  
  
And why is Magus suddenly quiet?  
  
"You should only bother about what people that you like think of you," I explain to her after a  
  
moment of pondering my words, "if you don't like someone, why even care if he doesn't like you?"  
  
Why on earth do I have to explain these things to her? What do I really know about it?  
  
I'm only good at killing feelings and ignoring others.  
  
Or maybe I've lost that profession.  
  
You...  
  
Be quiet, Magus, I warn you.  
  
Pha!  
  
But he falls silent.  
  
Schaliya stops swinging her legs as she contemplates what she has heard. I somehow believe that  
  
it's a good sign. She seems less concerned.  
  
Finally she comes to a conclusion.  
  
"I understand, uncle."  
  
"Good. And don't go too far now."  
  
"I will not!" she calls over her shoulder, smiling broadly as she runs off.  
  
I lean backwards against the wall, watching the sky.  
  
She makes me so confused...  
  
I am not what she thinks I am. But somehow her belief has some power over me.  
  
It's simply amazing.  
  
How can I handle it?  
  
Molor says nothing. He seems constantly concerned nowadays. I have a few clues why, and I don't  
  
like any of it.  
  
"Good night, uncle," Schaliya says with a smile as she disappears into her room.  
  
"Good night."  
  
I nod at Cered and Schala, then continue to my own room.  
  
The sky that was burning a few moments ago is turning dark. The nights always come so quickly  
  
when I want them to stay away. They have entered in a hurry for a long time now. I don't even  
  
remember when I started to dream.  
  
No attacks today. There was just peaceful rebuilding and cleaning up after the dragon's visit.  
  
But now I'll have to sleep. Again.  
  
For all the powers of the world, Frog! Make your move!  
  
'Ironic, not?' I tell Molor.  
  
'Indeed, friend.'  
  
That I'm hoping that the green one will kill me, that is truly ironic.  
  
May it finally happen tonight. I am so tired of being that Magus.  
  
I stand in the great hall. There are sounds of battle sneaking up through the floor.  
  
How could the three children come past all the guards? Even though they managed on the Zenan  
  
bridge, this is surprising.  
  
"This is your last chance, Magus!" master Ozzie snarls, "Slash and Flea will be with you, and you  
  
will do no mistakes now, understood?!"  
  
"I understand, master Ozzie."  
  
He teleports away. I can already hear the steps from the corridor.  
  
It's the blond woman, the man named Crono and a new warrior. Oh.  
  
I recognize him.  
  
"Ha!" master Flea laughs, "it's Sir Slime!"  
  
The big frog growls, unsheathing his broadsword.  
  
It's that young man I turned into a frog by master Ozzie's order, that day when I killed the hero  
  
Cyrus to protect my master.  
  
I unsheathe my sword.  
  
"Where be the scum Ozzie?" the frog growls.  
  
"You'll have to beat us before you get to see him!" master Slash sneer, holding his thin sword.  
  
"Very well. Come, my comrades!"  
  
He leaps forward together with the young man, aiming for master Flea. I move into their way,  
  
parrying their weapons. It's hard, but I manage.  
  
"I will not allow you to harm my masters," I say.  
  
The young man looks at me. He's asking me why I, a human, serve the monsters.  
  
"Why wouldn't I?" I snap and throw both of them backwards with a massive wave of fire.  
  
"Take this, you creep!" the young woman shouts and my back explodes with pain; I am thrown  
  
down.  
  
Something heavy and cold makes it impossible for me to stand up again. That young woman  
  
knows the powers of Water...  
  
"Get up, you idiot!" master Flea snarls, muttering a spell of Fire.  
  
The ice melts, and I hurriedly get to my feet. Slash is battling the woman, and Crono runs to help  
  
her. I have to take care of the frog while master Flea is preparing another spell.  
  
He is a better swordsman than I, that's easy to see. I could never use the sword as good as master  
  
Slash, and the frog is just as good with his weapon as my master. But I have my magic, and the  
  
warrior has to watch out for what I do with my fingers. He should have watched out better. I throw  
  
him to the floor with a lightning bolt and raise my sword. He is ready to parry.  
  
"My pendant!" the woman shouts in rage.  
  
The sound of a stone and a chain hitting the floor rings in my ears. The sword falls from my hand.  
  
I am aware that the frog is staring at me in surprise, but what do I care about it? That is...  
  
something...  
  
"Magus! What are you doing!?" Flea shouts.  
  
I walk past the floor. Slash is still battling Crono, unaware that I have left my mission for the first  
  
time ever. The woman stares suspiciously at me, holding something in a clenched grip. A thin chain,  
  
cut by a sword, hangs between her hands. Falling out between her fingers.  
  
"May I see that?" I ask her.  
  
"Why?" she warily says.  
  
"Magus!" master Flea shouts.  
  
Then his shout turns into a scream of rage.  
  
"Why you little...!"  
  
"Thy life ends here, magician!" the frog shouts.  
  
I hear them battle, but I don't care much about it.  
  
"Let me see it," I say to the woman.  
  
She watches me for a moment. Then she very slowly unclenches her hands and shows a pendant. It  
  
looks as if it's made of a single big pearl, surrounded by a few threads of silver. There's a few tiny  
  
runes scratched into it, but you can only see them in certain light. The pendant isn't shining from  
  
within, but I know that it once did.  
  
I reach for a pocket and bring out my amulet, holding it forth to the pendant. For a moment both of  
  
them glisten. Sending a hot ray of pain cutting through my soul.  
  
What... what...  
  
No... no! No!  
  
SCHALA!!  
  
My whole body is burning, I fall to my knees, pressing my hands against my head. I have to...  
  
"Schala! Schala!!" I scream.  
  
What is that name!? Why do I have to scream it... who is Schala? Who am I?  
  
My head is a flaming twister of confused thoughts, parts of broken memories trying to get a grip on  
  
my tortured mind.  
  
She is my... she is... my sister... who was... and mother... Zeal... Lavos... Janus!  
  
My name is Janus! Janus, Janus, Janus, Janus... they took it from me... they...  
  
They!  
  
"You!" I growl, stumbling to my feet.  
  
They are all staring at me now. I point at Slash, almost shaking of my rage.  
  
"You..." I growl, "you took my name!"  
  
"Oh dear," Flea says and rolls his eyes, "I think the little worm is having a flashback. Now is not the  
  
time, Magus."  
  
"My name isn't Magus!" I growl at him.  
  
With one single move with my hand, I send both him and Slash flying into the walls. The three  
  
warriors stares at me, blankly.  
  
"I am not Magus," I growl, raising my hand to give them a taste of how much I appreciated their  
  
leadership.  
  
"Wait, who are you then?" the woman calls.  
  
"I am Janus of Zeal," I say, without even turning around.  
  
"Zeal? You're the one!"  
  
I turn to look at her, slightly puzzled despite my rage.  
  
"The one who?" I ask her.  
  
"We are traveling through time," the frog slowly says, "and some time ago we entered to the era of  
  
12000 BC, then we hope to save the future that is cruelly battered by a being named Lavos. We were  
  
told that a key to that beast canst be found there."  
  
(Author's note:  
  
As this Magus was unable to "summon" Lavos, our heroes must have found the way to the dark age without first being thrown to 65000000 BC after the great beast's half awakening in the middle ages. Umm… that was confusing, I guess. Ahem. Here they got to Zeal before battling the Mystics, anyway. Kay- o?)  
  
I just stare at him.  
  
"But no luck," the woman say, "the queen would have killed us if princess Schala and her brother...  
  
hadn't..."  
  
She falls silent and stares at me. So does her friends.  
  
My head keeps spinning with all the memories that I sealed off to keep fairly sane. Hours of pain,  
  
the whip that hit me over and over again... forget, forget, forget... but before that, Schala, Adolfus...  
  
and I remember these people now. Schala let them out and asked of them to find Melchior. They  
  
promised to try, and then fled.  
  
They never returned, though. Or did they? My memory seem to split up...  
  
"Thou art that urchin?" the frog say, disbelieving.  
  
"I was thrown here by Lavos," I say in a low voice, "and Ozzie found me. They took everything from  
  
me, all my memories... brainwashed me and turned me into this."  
  
With disgust I point at my own chest. Now I straighten up.  
  
"But that's over," I growl, "why did you come here?"  
  
The young man named Crono tells me that it was because an old man in some place called the End  
  
of Time told them that there was somebody in this time who knew more about the kingdom of Zeal  
  
and Lavos.  
  
And that one is I. He asks me if I want to help them.  
  
They are time travelers... I have to save Schala. Maybe I can even save myself. I have to try. I  
  
swore to kill Lavos. Yes.  
  
"I'm going to..."  
  
"You're going to what, my little pupil?" I hear Flea's voice say, soft as silk.  
  
My world catches fire as my back is hit. That pain is unbearable... no, leave me alone...!  
  
No, I will never forget again! Never! I am not that weakened child anymore!  
  
"Stop!" the frog and the woman shouts.  
  
"Hey!" Flea snarls, and I hear a thump.  
  
As I turn around, I find that most of a glowing, red whip is lying on the floor by the frog's feet. He  
  
has cut it. But why?  
  
"This isn't your battle!" I snarl, getting to my feet.  
  
The frog looks at me for a moment. Then he nods and backs off.  
  
Slash is also getting to his feet.  
  
They never knew my full magic strength. If I had all of that now, I should be able to blow up the  
  
whole castle without harming myself or these three people who actually helped me. But my head is  
  
still turning over itself with all the returning memories. I cannot focus properly.  
  
Blast it!  
  
My sword is lying on the floor. I know I could call it to my hand, but it's worthless to me. I can use  
  
it, but not as good as I'd need to in order to defeat Slash.  
  
Well then, we'll just have to do it in another way.  
  
I wave a little with my fingers, and my amulet rise from the floor. It comes to my grip, and I clench  
  
my hand around it.  
  
Stop spinning. I need to concentrate.  
  
The flow of memories is pushed back as I put up a wall against it, focusing on how the artifact's  
  
sharp edges are cutting into my skin.  
  
Now.  
  
"Powers of the world, send me the power of Fire to burn this worm!" Flea shouts, pointing both his  
  
fine hands at me.  
  
I jump, higher than anyone could believe possible, to avoid the flames. The heat still burns my  
  
legs, and I'm almost unable to land without hurting myself gravely. Slash still hasn't charged, I guess  
  
he thought that Flea would finish me off.  
  
A cold smile grows on my lips. They made me strong, whether I liked it or not. Maybe I should  
  
thank them. Indeed...  
  
"Dark powers of the world!" I roar, "I dare to ask thee to lend me strength!"  
  
I am using evil powers to achieve my goals; to kill those who tortured me. Would Schala think that  
  
was reason enough?  
  
I cannot ask that now. There are things that I must do.  
  
"You're mad!" Flea screech as he hears my chanting, "you cannot use that!"  
  
He recognizes the spell, and he doesn't like it.  
  
I could never master this before. But I didn't have a mind of my own then.  
  
Schala. I have to use darkness. I was turned to it, I must do the best of my... gifts. I hope that you  
  
will understand.  
  
Crono, the frog and the woman lent me a hand to regain my senses. I mustn't allow my powers to  
  
kill them too.  
  
My hands seem to move by themselves, painting runes whose meaning are long lost as my mouth  
  
speak their meaning in a just as lost language. But I can read and understand them, they are Zealan.  
  
Like me. And Schala. Now I know what I am saying.  
  
Power.  
  
Intention.  
  
Evil.  
  
Substance.  
  
Dark Matter.  
  
Now.  
  
I smile coldly at Flea's terrified eyes.  
  
Farewell, my hated teacher. You were wrong. I can use it.  
  
I could call them masters one last, ironic time. But I won't. I have more pride than that.  
  
The whole room seem to dissolve around me, in blinding light and engulfing darkness. And that  
  
darkness reaches out for me, wants me to join my soul with it.  
  
No. Never again. I use it, but I'm not a part of the darkness. I'm not going to be deceived again.  
  
The darkness roars in anger and sends out tentacles for me, but I back off and it cannot reach me.  
  
Another cold smile move my lips. The spell has drained me so much that I feel like a moldering  
  
leaf, but that won't stop me.  
  
The darkness draws back, cursing me.  
  
And I open my eyes.  
  
They are watching me.  
  
"Art thee well again?" the frog ask.  
  
"Yes."  
  
I sit up, without any help.  
  
"Can you stand up?" the woman ask me, "we're going for Ozzie next."  
  
"No. I'll take care of him," I tell her.  
  
Crono says that he and his friends will help me. I shake my head.  
  
"I won't share his death with anyone," I grimly say, "he's mine only."  
  
"But he'll have the whole army standing between himself and you!" the woman points out, "and just  
  
look at your state."  
  
"I'll make it. You don't have to care for me."  
  
The frog snorts.  
  
"First Cyrus dies, then the mere tool who caused his death also wish to perish," he say, "'tis a real  
  
shame and waste of life."  
  
I look at him, frowning. By Ozzie's order, I destroyed his life. Yet he doesn't want me to die. I  
  
cannot understand it... why would they care? It somehow bothers me.  
  
"You should cherish it," I coldly say, "because only if I die can you become a human again."  
  
He stares at me, almost taking one step backwards. But then he shakes his head.  
  
"'Tis the price?" he say, calmly, "'tis far too high."  
  
I am amazed, but it's only shown by a small twitch of my eyebrows. He'll never be a human if I  
  
don't die, and still he's not willing to kill me? How can anyone think in such an avoiding way? It's  
  
illogical.  
  
"Let us go," he says, "we must make our move before Ozzie hast time to plan his strategy."  
  
They all look at me. I am silent for a moment, wondering about my chances against Ozzie's troops  
  
on my own. Plus, if I refuse their offer of help they might not help me get to Schala.  
  
It seems I have no choice.  
  
"Very well," I finally say, getting to my feet with a dry smile, "but you'll have to let me take care of  
  
Ozzie."  
  
"Alright!" the woman smiles, "I'm Marle, this is Crono and Frog."  
  
"How ironical," I say, looking at the amphibian, "wasn't your name Glenn?"  
  
He seems a bit amazed that I remember. If he only knew... I remember it all. Every detail and every  
  
hit.  
  
I can feel Ozzie shiver somewhere deeper inside of the castle. Stay right there.  
  
I'm coming, master...  
  
"For the time being my name is Frog," the knight finally says, emotionless.  
  
I could tell him that I only followed Ozzie's order. But he apparently already knows that.  
  
"I am Janus," I say.  
  
"And you don't look too good," Marle say and exchange a quick glance with Frog, who nods, "one  
  
moment. Powers of the world, we ask of thee to lend us the power of Water..."  
  
Both of them begin to chant softly. I do not recognize the spell, but I can understand the words in  
  
old Zealan.  
  
Power.  
  
Water.  
  
Healing.  
  
What?  
  
As they point at me, a shower of soft stars rain over me. I am covered in a warm light, filling me  
  
with new strength. Is this healing magic? I haven't ever been exposed to that earlier.  
  
I do not understand why they care, but I feel grateful. I have my memories, and I have my life  
  
back. Even if it's a life torn apart, it's a life with dignity.  
  
Now then. I am... no, we are coming, Ozzie.  
  
I simply nod at them as the light disappears.  
  
"I'll show the way," I tell them.  
  
"Very well," Frog says.  
  
I lead them over the floor. Nothing is left of Flea and Slash. A black lump of molten and burned  
  
metal is all that's left of my sword. I never wanted it, anyway. It doesn't matter at all.  
  
For a moment I ponder that it's peculiar that Flea should have died by on single magic blow, even  
  
though it was extremely powerful. But I have no patience wondering about that. My hate is focused  
  
on Ozzie. He found me, he brought me all the pain. He will pay tonight.  
  
We enter a corridor, and I see the shadows of the statues. I hold up a hand.  
  
"There are goblins here," I warn my allies in a low voice, "they are hiding behind the statues."  
  
Crono smirks that it shouldn't be too much of a problem. I nod, and we begin to walk again, ready  
  
to surprise those who are preparing to surprise us.  
  
But before anything more happens, I awake.  
  
Slowly I sit up in my bed, hearing the whispering sound of Molor's movement as he rise from the  
  
floor.  
  
'Fascinating,' he says.  
  
'Truly.'  
  
I have to smile in the weak light of dawn.  
  
Frog didn't kill that Magus after all, as I wished that he would.  
  
Fascinating. Seems like it's my destiny to fight together with Crono and the others.  
  
That Janus is weaker than I was, and a lot less cold. Even though he's got better reasons to. I see  
  
that relief and freedom are more powerful than I ever could imagine.  
  
Maybe my sleep won't be such a torture from now on. What I just experienced was a truly  
  
unexpected twist of the plot. It might even get interesting.  
  
The smile on my lips fades.  
  
Well, at least one problem down, in my dreams. But what is left within me in my real life is still a  
  
concern. I don't really want to examine how Charash's gift has been working so far, if Molor's help has  
  
run out of time yet. As I understand, it was very little he could do to stop the process.  
  
It's not a pleasant situation. I have this urge of wanting to know what's happening to my own  
  
body.  
  
Humph.  
  
'How long until I know?' I ask Molor.  
  
Sooner or later I'll find out what's happening; at least I can ask him to tell me when.  
  
His answer takes a moment to come, and he doesn't like to say it.  
  
'Don't know, friend. Day, week, month. Don't know.'  
  
Wonderful...  
  
I wish that I could persuade Molor to talk. But it would be like trying to make me talk when I don't  
  
want to. And that's quite impossible.  
  
I'll just have to bear it, I'm afraid. 


	5. Almost the whole crew again...

1 ~*~Chapter 5 The heroes assemble again~*~  
  
Being on watch out with the kind of problems bothering me isn't a good use of time. There's too  
  
much room for pondering the problems. I have gone through the thought of the dark heart growing  
  
within me for surely two hundred times. And Molor is silent inside of my mind. It seems to me as if  
  
he is avoiding to read my thoughts.  
  
Why is he acting so strange when it comes to Charash? It's almost as if he's afraid. I can't grasp  
  
the truth, and usually his few turns of feelings are open to me. But there is something with the dragon  
  
that makes him different. And lightly said it makes me concerned.  
  
I lazily turn, not expecting to see anything to the southeast either. Which I don't. But you never  
  
know what can turn up, so I had better stay on guard for a while longer...  
  
"Uncle Janus!"  
  
I look down. A small dot on the ground is waving at me. Carefully I begin to descend.  
  
"Did Sean and his friends say something silly again?" I ask as my feet touches the ground and Molor  
  
crawls out of my cloak.  
  
"Yes," Schaliya grins, "but then I told him and Garod and Anar that thou hath promised to teach me  
  
some magic, and they became as pale as you and ran off."  
  
Even though I have spent almost all of my day so far of bothering about being put under some kind  
  
of unknown spell, I have to smile at the triumph in her voice. Even Molor's silence cracks up in a  
  
hissed, short laughter.  
  
Before I have time to say something, Schaliya thoughtfully speaks again:  
  
"Was it bad of me to lie, uncle?"  
  
Little one, if you only understood what you are asking... me.  
  
"No, I think that they deserved a lie after saying such idiotic things to you," I tell her.  
  
And actually, I believe that when she gets older I really might teach her magic. She's got it in her,  
  
it's easy to see for a warlock like me. But I have a feeling that if I told her that now, I'd get the  
  
question "when?" everyday until I give in. And she's not old enough to handle such power yet.  
  
She's got it in her... from both her parents. Not from Lavos.  
  
The truly tragically part about the kingdom of Zeal is that the people there already knew magic  
  
before my mother began harnessing it from Lavos. But he made them forget about their own powers.  
  
And when he destroyed the kingdom the Enlighted ones believed that magic was all gone. I believe  
  
that they didn't even dare to try to send their prayers or orders to the powers of the world instead of to  
  
him.  
  
Humph.  
  
I remember the way they used to cast magic.  
  
First you must ask for power, or demand it. It all depends on how strong (and impudent, if you like  
  
to call it that) you are. Then you chant the words in old Zealan. Sometimes, if the magic within is  
  
awakened by extreme circumstances there is no need for praying and chanting. It's just an explosion  
  
within. And that will make the caster faint in most cases. That's what happened to me when I was  
  
captured by Ozzie as a child.  
  
The thought almost makes me frown, but I fight it back not to worry Schaliya.  
  
The power of Lavos left the people of Zeal. But magic will never disappear from a family line.  
  
And the monsters could still use the powers, because they had always prayed to the world instead.  
  
But the humans didn't dare to use it anymore. Even if they were finally wise enough to stop praying  
  
to the wrong force, they were too afraid to pray to the right one.  
  
You should say "powers of the world, lend me the power...", but the people I spent my early  
  
childhood among said "great Lavos, lend me your divine strength...".  
  
Humph.  
  
You can learn magic after it's awakened within you, through battle or studies. Studies explain  
  
themselves; through battle you learn new powers because they are needed. So you learn by instincts  
  
from a long time ago.  
  
In Zeal they believed that the earlier magic was awakened, the better. In reality, it's the other way  
  
around. They thought that the little prince was a hopeless case, unable to perform the most simple of  
  
spells. They knew nothing, but that's really something that doesn't need to be said.  
  
"You did well," I tell Schaliya with a small smile.  
  
She smiles widely. Then she suddenly looks up in surprise.  
  
"What is that, uncle?" she says and points at the sky.  
  
Both me and Molor spin around to see what she's talking about. But then we relax again, seeing  
  
that it's not a dragon Schaliya was talking about.  
  
How sufficient.  
  
There's a familiar drone coming closer as a silvery work of science soars through the air. I have to  
  
smile. This is not a too bad occasion...  
  
"It's nothing to worry about," I calm Schaliya without turning my eyes away from the Epoch, "it's  
  
just a few more friends."  
  
"Oh!" she smiles.  
  
I begin to walk, but stop and look down.  
  
Now she's doing it again!  
  
She looks up at me, with an almost shy smile. And once again she makes me so confused that I  
  
can't even think of anything to feel about her actions.  
  
Molor shakes his head with a snake's smile as he slithers on.  
  
I manage to turn my eyes away from Schaliya and begin to walk, slowly not to make her stumble  
  
when she walks by my side. I learnt something new. She might be small, but she's tall enough to  
  
reach my hand. Her short fingers are encircling my pointing finger, and what should I think about it?  
  
Magus just shakes his head in disgust.  
  
I ignore him.  
  
Glenn, Schala and Cered are hurrying from different directions towards the open area by the well,  
  
to the sound of Epoch's calming engines. The other villagers are watching with wary, but as my sister  
  
and her husband apparently thinks that the strange thing is alright, they calm down and return to  
  
rebuilding.  
  
"Hey Glenn!" Lucca cheers as she jumps down from the ladder, "what are you doing here?"  
  
"'Tis truly a joy to see thee, my comrades!" Glenn smiles, "alas, we face great peril..."  
  
"We're still looking for Crono's mum and the cats," Marle calls and steps down on the ground with a  
  
big smile, "we just decided to drop by and see how you're doing here. Are there any problems?"  
  
Schala opens her mouth to speak, but she notices that Crono is staring; his movement of climbing  
  
out of the cockpit completely frozen.  
  
"Something wrong, Crono?" she asks.  
  
He just raises his hand and, almost shaking, points at me and Schaliya. The people around him  
  
turn. Lucca and Marle's eyes grow a few inches. Glenn has to cover his mouth and turn away.  
  
"Nice that you decided to show up," I calmly say.  
  
No reaction. Schala and Cered smiles.  
  
"Art these people also warriors, uncle?" Schaliya asks, still not letting go of my hand.  
  
"Yes, they are."  
  
She follows me closer to the small crowd. The three new visitors stupidly blink at the small girl by  
  
my side.  
  
"Crono, Marle, Lucca," I say, emotionless, "this is Schaliya, my niece."  
  
They stare at Schaliya. Then they stare at me. And Schaliya again. At me.  
  
"Something wrong?" I calmly ask, even though my lips wish to start twitching at this point.  
  
"I wish I had a camera..." Lucca mumbles in a weak voice.  
  
"May I, brother?" Cered says with a wink of his eye and lifts Schaliya in a hug.  
  
"Good night..." Marle mumbles and pretends to faint.  
  
She gets up again, smirking.  
  
"Any other news?" Lucca says, crossing her arms with a grin, "are you getting married too, or  
  
something?"  
  
"Art thee making fun of my uncle?" Schaliya asks, wrinkling her nose.  
  
Marle shakes her head.  
  
"No, no, we're just... err..."  
  
She falls silent for a second. Then she starts chewing on the knuckles on her right hand, giggling.  
  
Crono is laughing like mad, lying on Epoch's wing. But since he's strangely constantly silent, there  
  
isn't any sound reaching the ears. And Lucca is leaning against Glenn, who's also smiling widely.  
  
"How come all thy friends art laughing when thee meet, uncle Janus?" Schaliya asks, puzzled.  
  
"Because they are thinking about frogs," I calmly say, "very big frogs."  
  
Lucca tries to give an answer to that, but can't because she's laughing so hard.  
  
'Would eat, but not healthy with oil,' Molor dryly says.  
  
It's a slightly fascinating fact that those four warriors would have been dead for their laughter if I  
  
still had been like I was six years ago.  
  
Still, if my sister and my niece weren't present, Crono and his friends would be trying out green  
  
skin by now.  
  
Schala touches the tip of her confused daughter's nose with a smile.  
  
"They're laughing because of a joke between them and your uncle," the mother explains.  
  
"Oh. I see," Schaliya says, happy with the answer.  
  
She's simply... fascinating. What else can be said?  
  
A while later all of us are sitting around the table of Schala and Cered's kitchen. What has happened  
  
so far has been explained to Crono and his company.  
  
"But what if the Masamune can't harm the big lizard either?" Marle points out.  
  
I shrug my shoulders.  
  
"I don't know," I admit, "all that I know is that regular weapons can't harm him. And that sword is  
  
the most extraordinaire weapon in the whole of history."  
  
"What makes it special, uncle?" Schaliya asks, sitting on Schala's knees with a doll made of softly  
  
colored cloth in her small hands.  
  
I'm aware that quite a few glances are exchanged, but I'm not part of the trading.  
  
"It was made by a wise man named Melchior, who once lived in the same time as me and your  
  
mother," I tell Schaliya, "and he made it with the help of two spirits created by his magic, named  
  
Masa and Mune. At first the sword was simply a dagger, but after absorbing a great amount of magic  
  
it turned into what it is now."  
  
"To achieve it we had to fight the two spirits and a dinosaur named Nizbel," Lucca says with a  
  
chuckle.  
  
"What is a dinosra?" my niece asks, frowning as she tries to pronounce the new word.  
  
A dinosaur, Crono corrects, it's like a dragon, but it can't breathe fire or fly. Well, most of them  
  
couldn't fly... in any case they are extinct nowadays.  
  
"Aye, there must be survivors still," Glenn points out, "'twas one in the cave of Giant's Claw,  
  
remember?"  
  
Let's leave them there... Crono says with a smile, we'll take care of that in time.  
  
"Indeed," Glenn says, also smiling.  
  
Schala says something, but I can't hear what it is. My vision is suddenly blurred again...  
  
No, it's not really blurred. Everything seem to turn smaller and... yellowish? I try to reach up to rub  
  
my eyes, but instinct tells me that I shouldn't do that since my claws would...  
  
Molor hits my left foot with his tail, sending me back to consciousness. I blink and shake my head  
  
as the confusion leaves me.  
  
"Art thee well, brother?" Cered asks, frowning.  
  
"It's nothing," I mutter, pulling myself together.  
  
But I guess no one believes me.  
  
'What's going on, Janus?' Schala's voice whispers inside of my head.  
  
'I don't know,' I shortly answer her.  
  
'Is there anything that I can...?'  
  
'No, I don't think so, Schala. I don't know what it is, but when I know I'll deal with it. Don't worry.'  
  
She silently sighs.  
  
'Why do you always insist on fighting your battles alone?' she asks me, 'all of us are here for you.  
  
Me, Cered, Molor, Glenn...'  
  
'I don't believe that there's anything you can do this time. Leave it.'  
  
At first she doesn't answer. Then she gives up.  
  
"So, what has happened to you while you have been searching for the cats and Crono's mother?" she  
  
asks Marle, clearly telling everyone that no more questions should be asked about me.  
  
"Oh, not much," the princess says after a quick glance in my direction, "we've just been traveling  
  
here and there. Went to the End of Time, but Gaspar couldn't help us this time. Too small of a case, I  
  
guess."  
  
She frowns.  
  
"Hey, isn't it strange that we should get here right now when you people need us? We only aimed for  
  
this era and here we are."  
  
"Mayhap Epoch hath the power of finding those in need?" Glenn suggests, "or mayhap 'tis thy  
  
destiny to travel trough time to help people?"  
  
"It's fascinating, that's what it is," Lucca thoughtfully says, knocking at her glasses with a finger.  
  
Their conversation goes on, but I hardly listen. I'm trying to understand what I felt as I was...  
  
confused.  
  
For a moment I believed that I had claws. Not only believed, I knew I had them. But I don't. I  
  
never had.  
  
It can't be that the dark heart is...? No, that's not possible as far as I know...  
  
Yet...  
  
I can only hope that I'm wrong. Molor won't answer me if I ask him, I know that. It's off limits.  
  
But why is that? Why can't he answer me?  
  
I really hate losing control, and there's nothing I can do about what's going on. I can't find the  
  
answers to any of the questions. I can only wait. And that's very frustrating, indeed.  
  
My cloak waves in the wind coming from the ocean. It brings the stench of a great fire to my nostrils,  
  
even though I'm watching the flames in quite a distance.  
  
"I'm glad I won't have to clean up after that barbeque," Marle says somewhere behind me.  
  
Her voice is split; half excited over the victory, half shocked over how quick and sudden it went.  
  
I could have kept Ozzie suffering for a long time. But something held me back. Maybe Schala,  
  
maybe impatience. Maybe both.  
  
He got a quick death, but he was well aware who delivered it.  
  
And that's enough.  
  
Crono says that we should go. I nod.  
  
After one last glance at the burning fortress I turn around. My three allies are walking to the west,  
  
towards the caves leading to the continent.  
  
"Wait."  
  
They stop and turn around, looking bewilderedly at me.  
  
"Where do we need to go?" I ask as I walk over to them.  
  
"To Truce canyon," Frog says, "'tis where the Gate of time awaits."  
  
Truce canyon... I've never been there, but they have. I should be able to use their knowledge in the  
  
spell.  
  
"I'll see what I can do," I say and press my fingertips against each other.  
  
Travel.  
  
There.  
  
I reach into Crono's mind, only touching the outer side of it. Since he's thinking of our destination  
  
I can lend his experience without him noticing my doings.  
  
The air begins to sparkle around the four of us, and a blinding light erupts from nowhere. As it  
  
cease, I find myself standing in a small, open field beneath a cliff. Facing the wall, on the other side  
  
of the plain is a smooth edge. Trees grow by it, balancing by the abyss. I can hear the sound of  
  
running water coming from my right.  
  
My throat suddenly feels very dry.  
  
Correction. I have been here before.  
  
My first steps in this accursed time were right here.  
  
I had time to walk about one foot before Ozzie caught me.  
  
"Here, let's go!" Marle says, pulling me out of the frozen moment.  
  
She's turning some kind of peculiar tool in a small, dark orb in the grass. I didn't see that before...  
  
The small ball seems to smoothly explode, turning into a great, dark hole. Lightning bolts in eerie  
  
colors dance inside of and around it.  
  
Not again... not that... that brought me here, for all powers of the world!  
  
But Marle enters, followed by Frog. Crono throws a glance at me before stepping into the darkness.  
  
I clench my jaw and follow them.  
  
It was thirteen years since I went through the seemingly never-ending, flashing nothingness. But it  
  
still feels very unpleasant.  
  
And then I step out into a small, dusky room. A pillar of light rises from the floor, maybe I stepped  
  
out of that one. I'm not sure. Crono, Marle and Frog are already waiting for me.  
  
"You're back!" a familiar voice calls.  
  
Down a stair, a small gate of grayish wood flies open. The figure standing down there is that girl  
  
with the helmet and glasses, the one who was with Crono and Marle on the Zenan bridge.  
  
"Did you find... ah!"  
  
Her speaking turns into a scream as she sees me.  
  
"Are you out of your minds!? What's he doing here?" she screeches.  
  
By her scream a blond, muscled woman dressed in animals' skins, and a strange creature that  
  
seems to be made of mostly yellow metal show up behind the shocked girl. They seem prepared to  
  
help if needed...  
  
"Calm thy minds, my comrades," Frog hurriedly says, "the Pawn of the Mystics is no more. This is  
  
prince Janus of Zeal."  
  
The girl and the woman stares blankly at me.  
  
"Memory error?" the metallic creature says with a strangely beeping voice, "the prince of Zeal is  
  
registered as a seven year old boy."  
  
I clench my teeth again. I do not need to be reminded of that lost time.  
  
"He's grown up..." Marle begins, but she falls silent as an elderly man pushes the three by the gate  
  
aside.  
  
The man rushes up the stair, his brown clothes flapping in his hurry. He stops in front of me, from  
  
beneath the strange and silly hat he's wearing a couple of clear, examining eyes watches my face.  
  
"Prince Janus," he slowly says, with sadness in his voice, "I am so sorry for what happened to you."  
  
I look at him, frowning. My memory begins to spin again...  
  
"Ah, you might not remember me..." he says, a bit sheepishly.  
  
"Gaspar," I say, emotionless.  
  
His name just showed up, beside a weakened picture of a guru. Is that him? But Gaspar didn't look  
  
like that... things keep changing ahead of me all the time. I have lost so many years...  
  
The man in front of me startles a bit, but then smiles carefully.  
  
"That's a good memory you have there, prince," he says.  
  
"I'm afraid so," I reply.  
  
He slowly nods and clears his throat.  
  
"Well then, now that we have the prince back your group has reached its completion. Janus, your  
  
help is vital if Lavos is to be defeated. I have understood that you are the only one who can open the  
  
sealed Gates."  
  
I raise an eyebrow. What can I do about these mysterious Gates, I who only have seen  
  
them at work two times? The only thing I know about them is that they can bring you to different  
  
times in history.  
  
Gaspar points at the pillar of light.  
  
"See that?" he says, "that's how a Gate looks here. But there should be nine of them, each one  
  
leading to different places in time. After Crono, Marle and Ayla fled from Zeal all the paths suddenly  
  
disappeared. I managed to keep the one to the Middle Ages open, but it was hard. I don't know how,  
  
but somebody reached into this place via one single Gate and almost managed to trap the youngsters  
  
here forever."  
  
He looks up, examining my face again.  
  
"I can't open the others," he gravely says, "but you can, prince."  
  
I would like to ask him how he can be so sure about it, but instead I sit down on one knee on the  
  
ground. There's a lighter, round mark on the floor before me, and I sense some kind of power coming  
  
from it. Familiar to a Gate, but somehow bound.  
  
I place my gloved palm on the spot, close my eyes and try to focus.  
  
Something about it feels strangely familiar, I can sense but not pinpoint it. Not yet.  
  
As I focus my mind, turning it into a glowing needle to examine what it is that lies by my feet, I am  
  
almost overwhelmed with the feeling of knowing the power.  
  
From somewhere I know this, something I have lived among, watching as a child.  
  
For a short moment, barely a heartbeat, my mind touches the possibility of Schala. But no. No.  
  
This isn't her power, it's far too harsh.  
  
It's a smirk, one eye, a cloak with the color of the burning sky, long dark blond hair with mad  
  
curls. I know this. I know him.  
  
"Dalton," I say, only watching the ground.  
  
"Dalton?!" the ones around me growl, obviously no more fond of him than I am.  
  
Another memory breaks free from my confused dam of lost experiences.  
  
"He'll come for Schala," I say, growling, "she'll try to escape to the Earthbound ones and Dalton  
  
will come to bring her back. If we can stop him from bringing her to the Mammon Machine in the  
  
Ocean Palace, we might be able to stop Lavos and queen Zeal."  
  
"Yes," Gaspar gravely says, "it was when the queen used princess Schala to rise the power of the  
  
machine to its fullest that Lavos awoke. That must be stopped."  
  
Schala... Dalton grabbing her arm, making her grimace of pain, the hand that hit my face and threw  
  
me over the floor as I tried to stop him, the world spinning, his laughter and...  
  
And...  
  
He said something.  
  
But for the first time my recovering memory can't provide any information. I suppose that I was  
  
too knocked out to hear what it was that he said.  
  
Anyhow, it was surely not important.  
  
"You better back off a bit," I mutter through clenched teeth.  
  
I hear them move away, warily.  
  
Slowly I place my other palm on the mark and shut my eyes tightly.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me pure power..." I mutter.  
  
No sound escape my lips as they move, and I'm hardly aware that I am silently chanting. I don't  
  
even know what words I am using. My mind is a glowing dagger, trying to cut through Dalton's lock.  
  
He must be the worst human scum to ever live, but he knew what he was doing when he took his  
  
time. This work is almost to be described as beautiful. Hideous, but with the beauty of a good magic  
  
creation. I plunge into it.  
  
It's a twisted net. If I cut one thread it seems as if two others replace it. All around me, closing in  
  
and trying to snare me. How typically him. It's not simply a wall, it's a trap.  
  
If I don't get out now, I'll never leave.  
  
Funny how calmly I come to the conclusion.  
  
I have to back off, or I'll be tangled in the psychic ropes forever. I hurriedly begin to ascend; the  
  
ropes turn to tentacles and follow me, reach out and try to catch my mind in an unbreakable, cold  
  
embrace.  
  
Nothing has any color here, the tentacles might be disgustingly green or flaring red.  
  
Like glowing whips, dashing through the air.  
  
I think that I might be screaming, but nobody can hear me. Nobody ever heard. They just hit harder  
  
and harder until I couldn't scream anymore.  
  
I scream again as one of the tentacles get a hold of me, burning my soul with its coldness.  
  
But suddenly a pure anger cuts through my pain.  
  
I did not find freedom a few hours ago to be lost forever in a trap created by Dalton!  
  
The tentacle releases me, as if it fears my rage. It, and all the others of its kind start to tremble  
  
below me as the fire within me begins to roar.  
  
I am Janus of Zeal, brother of Schala! I am not the Pawn of the Mystics, I am not a slave! I am not  
  
falling into a trap now!  
  
Go!  
  
A hurricane of my pure energy explodes from my enraged mind, heavily falling into the forest of  
  
twisting tentacles without halting its spin the slightest.  
  
There's an unearthly screech, like a dying soul, as my creation cuts and rips up anything coming in  
  
its way. It's going berserk with such violent force that Dalton's child has no possibility to defend  
  
itself or re-grow lost parts.  
  
I smile coldly, watching the mayhem below. Tentacles are flying in all directions, disappearing a  
  
few moments after they are cut from the bigger lump.  
  
Soon, all of them are gone.  
  
Almost.  
  
I frown, sending my forces back at one last twisted yarn.  
  
But no matter how hard I try, I cannot break that remaining lock. And the twister is loosing its  
  
strength; I have almost used up all my powers to keep it going.  
  
That yarn won't budge. It's stronger than all the other parts, which I have removed. I wish that I  
  
could believe that I have done enough, but I have a nagging feeling that that last part of Dalton's  
  
work remain because that's from where everything else grew. That is the starting point, and that's  
  
what I should have succeeded in destroying. But I can't. My strength is all used up.  
  
The hurricane slows down and fades away. I take a deep breath, silently cursing my failure.  
  
And I open my eyes. They are standing above me, concernedly watching me.  
  
"Not to be rude, but is it your hobby to use up a lot of power and then faint?" Marle asks, ironic yet  
  
somehow kindly.  
  
I try to tell her to leave me alone, but only a weak groan leaves my lips.  
  
"Analyze warns for dangerously low level of vitamins, protein and water," the metallic creature says  
  
with it's beeping, peculiar voice, "prince Janus suffers from grave loss of sleep and food."  
  
"He need eat," the muscled woman says and purse her mouth, "but no eat friend."  
  
"Ayla, I beg of thee...!" Frog sighs and rolls his bulb eyes with a tired smile.  
  
How was it to feel hungry, again? It was so long ago... everything was so long ago...  
  
Gaspar sits by my side. I find that I can't even move, so exhausted that my body is completely out  
  
of reach. I can only watch him.  
  
"You might not have managed to open the Gate to our time, prince," the old man says, "but all the  
  
others are open. And I believe that it should be enough."  
  
"You mean there can be other Gates leading to Zeal?" the girl with the glasses asks.  
  
"No," Gaspar says, "I don't think so. But in the future you can find another guru of my and the  
  
prince's time; Belthasar. He's the guru of Time, so if there is another way of stopping the queen he  
  
should know about it."  
  
"Then go!" the muscled woman howls, "go, go! But pale one need help!"  
  
"Perhaps it would be wise if Frog and Marle stay here and take care of prince Janus," the metal being  
  
suggests, "my memory is still damaged but I might be of service in my own time."  
  
"That's the spirit, Robo," Lucca nods, "I'll come too! And Ayla... go and find a dinosaur for the  
  
prince's dinner."  
  
I'm not sure if she's kidding or not, and I don't really care. I think I'm about to fall again...  
  
"Hey, we're losing him!" I hear Marle call from a long distance.  
  
Then, nothing but smoothing darkness. I disappear.  
  
But as I loose my consciousness in my dream, I awake.  
  
Molor is silent, letting me go through the memories the night left behind by myself.  
  
I wasn't able to see it, but I can remember Ozzie's death. Not very well, though. Seems like I went  
  
into a deep rage. Everything from the moments around the monster's fall seem reddish and vague to  
  
me.  
  
But he died on the first try this time.  
  
Oh yes, he died. Very much, even.  
  
Humph. So Dalton tried to stop the group in that time stream? I have no idea how he managed to  
  
figure out something that complicated. But I guess they needed an excuse to find Epoch, and since  
  
there was no prophet who wanted to handle Lavos by himself and therefore forced Schala to put up a  
  
block on the path between prehistoric and dark age...  
  
I have to smile ironically.  
  
My dreams were torture just one week ago. Now they almost fascinate me. I have to admit that I'm  
  
a bit curious about how the story of the Heroes of Time will change.  
  
It really is getting interesting. Even if the prince of Zeal is a bit...  
  
My thoughts are disturbed by the sound of a slamming door and running footsteps outside in the  
  
corridor. It sounds like Schala.  
  
She's down the stair before I'm even out of my room.  
  
I hurry after her down into the kitchen, sensing that something isn't quite as it should.  
  
Now that isn't very pretty.  
  
"Oh gods...!" she groans, desperately holding her hair aside, sitting on her knees and bending over  
  
one of the buckets that usually contains water for cooking and washing.  
  
It was empty a few seconds ago.  
  
I sit down by her side and place my hands on her shoulders as she finally is able to calm down.  
  
She's breathing hard and gratefully takes the dishtowel that Molor holds between his sharp fangs for  
  
her.  
  
"Are you alright?" I ask as my sister tries to dry her lips with the towel.  
  
"Yes, I am..." she mumbles, in a rather weak voice though.  
  
"As far as I know people don't throw up when they are completely fine."  
  
I hear the rest of the house hurrying into the kitchen, but I don't turn around. Schala tries to smile  
  
and shakes her head, making her thick, blue curls tumble around her head and shoulders.  
  
"I'm not sick, brother," she warmly says with a sigh, "the choice of time could have been better,  
  
though."  
  
I blink. Molor too (which is good work since he has no eyelids). Maybe the others who are  
  
standing behind me also do so.  
  
"Again?!" I finally manage to say.  
  
Schala nods.  
  
The next second she's above the floor in Cered's arms.  
  
"Beloved daylight!" he laughs and carefully kisses her forehead.  
  
Somebody thumps my back so hard I almost loose my balance.  
  
"Gee, Sir Janus!" Marle grins, "ye gonna be an uncle again!"  
  
I don't know if I should smile or fight back a groan...  
  
Of course I truly can share Schala and Cered's happiness, but by the powers... another  
  
One?  
  
"What is the matter?" Schaliya asks, confused.  
  
I turn my head just as Glenn sits down on one knee beside her with a laugh, and wraps one of his  
  
arms around her small shoulders.  
  
"I shalt explain, little lady," he smiles, "thou will in nine months be blessed with the honor of being  
  
an older sister."  
  
"I will!?" Schaliya exclaims and throws her short arms around Glenn's neck with a twinkling  
  
laughter of joy.  
  
The swordsman looks a bit surprised at first, then he carefully hugs her.  
  
I blink. Some light...  
  
Not the clouded vision, it's something completely different.  
  
Something about Glenn holding on to Schaliya...  
  
But the peculiar feeling about it fades away as soon as it touched me.  
  
Lucca yawns.  
  
"Look, I'll leave you to it," she mumbles, "in my opinion it's far too early in the morning to be  
  
pregnant..."  
  
She pushes her way past the smiling neighbors, who still live here since their houses are in ashes  
  
(the living room is really getting crowded). It's Cered's old friends Shadarak and Leon with their  
  
wives Jem and Rayli. All four of them now hurry over to my sister and her husband to congratulate  
  
them.  
  
There is a fact that is making me concerned. It's wise of a woman to not cast any magic when she's  
  
pregnant. That's how we got pointy ears back in Zeal, and there's no telling if there could be other  
  
consequences.  
  
On the other hand, magic isn't effective against Charash. But still, I'm sure Cered will agree  
  
completely with me on this; no battles for Schala. I hope she'll understand.  
  
If she doesn't understand, I'll place her inside of a crystal until Charash is gone.  
  
Schaliya rushes past me, for a moment throwing her arms around my neck in joy before she  
  
continues over to her parents. I haven't even time to react. Normally I would, but that girl always  
  
takes me by surprise.  
  
Shaking my head with the shadow of a smile I straighten up.  
  
"Janus," Glenn's voice says behind me.  
  
I turn around. As Lucca said, it's early in the morning, and all of us are in a little bit tired  
  
condition. The swordsman is simply wearing a pair of loose, light pants.  
  
"Yes?" I say, trying not to allow my small smile to grow due to his rather drowsy look.  
  
He rubs his eyes while speaking.  
  
"'Tis something I must talk with thee about, but mayhap it canst wait until the glorious new day hast  
  
begun properly."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
As I go back to bed, I don't dream anything. It's rather pleasant.  
  
I guess I'm still unconscious "over there". 


	6. The amphibian returns and Januses meet

1 ~*~Chapter 6 Two sets of Janus~*~  
  
After resting another hour Molor and I leave the house to go back to guarding the sky. It hasn't  
  
moved at all since yesterday.  
  
I don't get much time floating up there, though.  
  
"Janus, could I hath a word with thee?"  
  
Glenn's down there, waving at me. He seems more awake and equipped with better clothing now.  
  
Oh, that's right. He wanted to talk.  
  
I descend.  
  
"What is it, then?" I ask.  
  
He's rubbing the back of his neck and releases a deep breath before beginning to talk. That is truly  
  
most uncharacteristically.  
  
Even I can notice that something's concerning him.  
  
"I hath been thinking about something," Glenn slowly says, frowning, "I believe that I must ask thee  
  
of a favor that will surprise thee."  
  
"And what would that be?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"A mere technical truth..." he says, vaguely.  
  
'Oh,' Molor nods, 'clever.'  
  
Ah.  
  
Fascinating how easily I understood what he meant, actually. I don't like to admit it, but perhaps  
  
me and the swordsman have fought together enough for creating some kind of simple bond of mind.  
  
"I see," I say, and I can't help smiling a little, "I understand your point."  
  
"Not that I am ungrateful, but I believe that for the moment I could do better with a few more years  
  
of training," Glenn says.  
  
Is that a small excited smile or even a grin touching his lips for half a second?  
  
But I do understand.  
  
It's a wise conclusion.  
  
"Teatime, you three!" Marle calls as she hurries past from wherever she has been dwelling.  
  
"Lend us a few minutes!" Glenn calls after her.  
  
He looks at me and raises his eyebrows.  
  
"I hath time. Dost thee?" he says, and this time he is grinning.  
  
I nod, and find that I cannot avoid to almost imitate the look on his face.  
  
I push the door to the house open and step inside.  
  
"We thought you'd never show up!" Marle says and puts down her teaspoon.  
  
"Who?" I say, my lips twitching.  
  
Just look at me now. It's so silly to play such a game with circumstances and words. It's really not  
  
my thing.  
  
But for this once, I allow myself it.  
  
The people around the table blankly looks at me and Molor. My kindred spirit is laughing dryly,  
  
but none of them can hear him.  
  
"Well," Lucca says, carefully ironical, "you, Molor, Glenn, the Easter bunny..."  
  
"Oh, I see," I nod and sigh, "tragically enough, neither the bunny nor Glenn are here."  
  
They stare at me, a few of them with growing unease.  
  
"Dare I ask what you have done with him?" Lucca asks with a rather weak voice.  
  
"What makes you think I have done something to him?" I calmly ask.  
  
"I fear thy word of innocence is not enough, Janus," a voice behind me chuckles.  
  
"I thought you said he wasn't here anymore?" Schala says, frowning, "what are you two up to?"  
  
With a laugh a short figure leaps over my head and lands on the floor.  
  
"Alas, Glenn is no longer present. I am here to fulfill his deeds."  
  
The people around the table blink.  
  
The mouth that smiles is much bigger than a human's, though the body is smaller. A green cloak  
  
hangs over the small back, by the figure's side rests the Masamune in its sheath. Two bulb eyes  
  
surrounded by green skin watches the surprised crowd, still twinkling with laughter.  
  
Frog!? Crono exclaims.  
  
"The little warrior here figured that he's a bit stronger and skilled in his other form," I say with a  
  
small sneer, "he actually volunteered."  
  
"Who is that?" Schaliya asks, with her eyes wide with both fascination and surprise.  
  
Frog chuckles again and performs a bow.  
  
"I was born with the name Glenn, little lady," he smiles, "but for the time being I am to be called  
  
Frog."  
  
"Did thee do that, uncle?" my niece asks, staring at me.  
  
"Due to his wish, yes," I say, calmly.  
  
"Cool!" Schaliya gasps.  
  
Utter silence. Then everybody except Schaliya turn their eyes to Lucca. She starts whistling  
  
and concentrates fully on stirring her tea.  
  
"Any other improvements of my niece's vocabulary, while we're at it?" I ask the one with the helmet  
  
and glasses.  
  
"Weren't we talking about Frog?" Lucca says, innocently.  
  
I'll let her live this time. But if Schaliya ever says "awesome" or "humanoid robot", I will have a  
  
long talk with that scientist-fanatic.  
  
"Aye," Frog grins, protecting his friend, "the warlock simply reset my body again. For Glenn hath  
  
not a third of Frog's strength, I fear."  
  
"Heaven save us all..." Shadarak weakly mumbles, rubbing his face.  
  
"Welcome back, Frog," Schala smiles.  
  
"I thank thee."  
  
After the tea most of the assembled warriors go back to whatever they find their part of the  
  
rebuilding. I return to watching the sky.  
  
As usual, that task leaves a lot of time for using the mind.  
  
Neither me nor Cered have been talking to Schala about our wish to keep her away from battles. At  
  
least I highly doubt that my brother in law has said anything. I'm sure I would have heard the  
  
shouting.  
  
If he needs help, he'll just have to ask...  
  
I have to smile.  
  
He's probably too proud to ask me to help him talk to his wife. The great guardian of the emperor's  
  
peace.  
  
Well, it's better that she only bites his head off, anyhow.  
  
Ah, my sister. So different from the Schala back in Zeal...  
  
I look down for a moment and see Frog and Crono involved in an intense training-battle. Even my  
  
sharp eyes face a small problem keeping track on what's happening on the ground. A few of the  
  
townspeople have taken a break of rebuilding to stare at the two combatants.  
  
The Masamune and Crono's Rainbow katana clash at least two times every second, sending a  
  
never ending shower of sparks falling around their hastily moving feet.  
  
Seems like Crono's got the upper hand for the moment. Frog isn't used to being short anymore.  
  
I smile again, absentmindedly scratching the back of my left hand.  
  
Poor little warrior... for several months he's been trying to learn how to fight as Glenn again. Now  
  
when he almost had mastered it again he's back in his green skin. How ironical.  
  
My smile dies.  
  
I turned him back with the time-spell I used when removing my curse from his body. I didn't  
  
ponder if it was unwise.  
  
A couple of days ago when I went to get Glenn, the dark heart in my soul caused me to make small  
  
mistakes; forgetful, the time travel that brought me two months wrong the first time and one day later  
  
than planned the second.  
  
I didn't think of that when I used my magic on Glenn. Maybe only luck held back a disaster...  
  
'No, no worry,' Molor whispers inside of my mind, 'you adapt to it.'  
  
That he suddenly tells me something about it, that truly surprises me. Earlier he refused to say a word.  
  
But if he's changed his mind, I won't question him.  
  
That's simply how both of us work; do not question my reasons.  
  
'How?' I only ask.  
  
He is silent for a moment.  
  
'Why he gave it to you,' he finally says, slowly, 'you can adapt.'  
  
'What is it with me?'  
  
No reply.  
  
I sigh.  
  
The back of my hand is all red because of my scratching. Until now I hadn't even noticed that I had  
  
been working on it for some time. And still it itches.  
  
Shaking my head, I call forth the gloves I used to wear as Magus. The itch is still there, but I won't  
  
allow such a trivial thing to master me.  
  
There's a few dark clouds on the sky. It will probably rain tonight.  
  
The sun is hidden behind a grey lump, which creates a dull light. I turn my back at the hidden  
  
source of illumination and place my right elbow in my left hand, resting my head in the other grip.  
  
Far below the sound of two swords hitting each other keeps going without rest. But not even that  
  
can keep my eyelids from falling for a moment.  
  
I blink and shake my head, trying to get a grip of myself. Suddenly I feel tired. It's not like me, and  
  
falling asleep up here doesn't seem like a very bright idea.  
  
This drowsiness isn't...  
  
'Molor, stop it!' I snarl.  
  
'I have to see your condition, friend,' he calmly replies, 'sleep.'  
  
'Not here...!'  
  
'I'll take care of it.'  
  
'Molor!'  
  
But my mind falls into nothingness, and I can't do anything about it.  
  
Why are you trying to destroy my trust in you, Molor!?  
  
Ugh.  
  
"Prince Janus?"  
  
I reach up to massage my forehead with my fingers. My head feels like a stone.  
  
"He can't be prince Janus," a man's voice says, disbelieving, "I mean... time travel?"  
  
"Who knows, magic..." the first voice, an old man's says.  
  
Unable to fight back a small groan I sit up, still rubbing my forehead.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
I open my eyes to see a group of men, women and children in different ages. They are all dressed  
  
in dirty clothes and their eyes are filled with a deep helplessness.  
  
Another block of memories explodes inside of my mind.  
  
Earthbound ones. The people who couldn't use magic, not allowed in the kingdom of Zeal apart  
  
from as... slaves, working on the Ocean Palace. So that "there was some use of them".  
  
Almost all of the children and several adults back nervously as I frown. I probably don't look very  
  
friendly.  
  
"Is something wrong?" an old man says, looking at me with slight fear.  
  
I recognize his voice as the one that talked earlier.  
  
He's the elder, I remember...  
  
"How did I get here?" I mutter, even now trying to massage some life into my heavy head.  
  
"There was a young man and mysterious being made of metal brought you here," the elder tells me,  
  
"then they went away and returned with a blond woman in the man's age. They went to the beast's  
  
nest, hoping to find the guru Melchior on the mountain of Woe."  
  
I frown again. Why would they...  
  
By the powers, Schala!  
  
The crowd backs again as I rush to my feet from the heap of hay I was resting on.  
  
"Has Schala come here yet?" I demand.  
  
The elder stares at me and swallows hard before shaking his head.  
  
"No, the princess..."  
  
For a moment I feel relieved. Then she's still safe from Dalton.  
  
But my relief falters as everything starts to spin. I have to sit down again, rubbing my whole face  
  
with both of my hands.  
  
I just remembered how it feels to be very, very hungry.  
  
Ugh.  
  
"Excuse me, your friends wanted me to give you this..." the elder nervously says and pushes a  
  
backpack into my reach.  
  
Through the fog of hunger and exhaust I see that there's a letter attached to the sack. I take a deep  
  
breath to get a grip of myself and then reach out to take the piece of paper. The words are written  
  
with lead and by someone with a bit impatient yet fine way of writing.  
  
To Janus,  
  
We thought that it was better that you handled Schala and yourself as a kid, and we'll take  
  
care of Melchior. Me (Marle) and Robo (the robot) are going to Mt. Woe with Crono.  
  
Thanks to you we were able to go to the future and find Belthasar. Well, he was dead. But he  
  
had programmed a mechanical Nu with everything he knew, so he could help anyway. He had  
  
built a time machine, which we named Epoch. With that, we could travel to Zeal even without  
  
the Gates.  
  
We all hope that the meeting with Schala will go well. We'll hurry to get Melchior, in case  
  
you against any logic should need help with Dalton.  
  
Best wishes  
  
Marle, Crono, Lucca, Frog, Ayla, Robo, Gaspar and Spekkio (the master of War in  
  
the End of time, you'll have to meet him later)  
  
PS. We left you some food, Robo says that you'll die due to lack of vitamins and that other stuff  
  
in about seven hours and twenty-five minutes if you don't eat anything. But you should wake up  
  
long before that, we used some more healing magic to give you a little energy. But that won't  
  
help much, according to the tin man. So eat up! DS.  
  
"How long have I been asleep?" I ask without looking up.  
  
"A couple of hours," the elder says.  
  
Well, I have no idea what a "robot" is, but I guess it's that creature made of metal. And leaning  
  
onto the way I'm feeling for the moment, I am tempted to believe his predictions.  
  
I put the letter aside and open the backpack.  
  
They haven't been saving money getting me something to eat. For a very short moment I feel a  
  
glistening warmth inside, but it disappears almost immediately. No matter how hungry I am, I can't  
  
eat half of all this. Silly overdoing...  
  
A couple of hours...?  
  
My memory takes another turn.  
  
Crono, Frog, the robot... Melchior, Schala came, talked, Dalton... hit me... said something... took  
  
her away...  
  
I blink as the flood of pictures run into my brain. But why do they come now? Because those  
  
things suddenly is possible? It must be something like that, earlier I only remembered that me and  
  
Schala went to these filthy caves in order to hide from the queen.  
  
How long can it possibly take to climb that mountain, find Melchior and come back?  
  
I haven't got time for this! Schala might come anytime, and Dalton's right behind her!  
  
Snarling a curse upon this whole rotten era I grab a piece of bread, some dried meat and a couple of  
  
apples from the backpack and surpass them to the depths of my cloak. Then I stand up again and  
  
throws the sack at the elder. Bread and some more fruit falls out on the dusty ground.  
  
"Take it!" I snarl even as I hurry out of the cave, "I have to get Schala."  
  
Surprised and grateful calls follow me as I rush up the ladders, through the short tunnel and jump  
  
down from the ledge onto the ground below, not caring to use the last ladder.  
  
The cold winds bite my skin even as I'm jumping, but I ignore it and hurry out in the snowstorm.  
  
But after a few steps the frozen landscape becomes too much, and I have to call for the powers of  
  
Fire to warm the air around me.  
  
Without slowing down I bring out one of the apples from my madly flapping cloak and take a bite.  
  
Before I've even noticed what happened I have eaten both the fruits, the bread and the meat.  
  
I'm still a bit hungry, but my head seems to become clearer at once. Can't remember when I last  
  
felt this healthy.  
  
What did I eat when I was kept by the Mystics?  
  
Oh.  
  
I do not want to remember that.  
  
There is... something over there... and it's not a tree...  
  
My steps falters and cease to come.  
  
Two figures are fighting against the harsh winds, even though they obviously are protected by a  
  
fire spell similar to mine. Both of them are dressed in softly purple robes and have blue hair.  
  
One is short; a small boy looking quite tense. A cat with oddly light brown purple fur rests in his  
  
safe grip.  
  
For a moment I stare at myself as a child, then my eyes turn to the young woman by the boy's side.  
  
Her hair is a dream of curls, her gem green eyes are tired but filled with a crisp determination. I  
  
know that she wants to refuse the orders of what once was our mother, but she can't. Her love for the  
  
queen is too great.  
  
But that love is nothing for what I feel for my sister. It really can't be put into words.  
  
She might only be my stepsister and not my sibling to the fullest, but I always felt as if we were  
  
made as one being. She cared for me when mother disappeared, she was always there. She understood  
  
my every thought. She and Adolfus were all I had. I knew that everyone in Zeal either scorned or  
  
pitied me for being the prince yet unable to use magic. But those two didn't. They didn't mind, they  
  
loved me anyway. Like no one else could or would. Or ever will. Without them I became nothing.  
  
Without them I'm just Magus, Pawn of the Mystics.  
  
Schala and the little prince stop and stare at me as they come closer.  
  
I know that only those of royal family have blue hair. That was the mark of our family.  
  
And I know that I'm pale as death itself, and with my cloak flying behind me I must look  
  
terrifying.  
  
But even though I know those facts, those reasons for staring at me like that...  
  
For a moment I am about to fall to my knees and cry out my agony, the pain burning from the  
  
distrust in my sisters eyes. But I can't move at all. I can't speak.  
  
Adolfus' ears twitch, just as I remember they often did. Otherwise none of us move.  
  
"Who are you?" Schala finally whispers.  
  
Her voice is almost torn away by the wind and the distance, but my ears catch the words, holding  
  
on to them as the treasures they are.  
  
The voice of Schala, the voice of my sister... the voice I have longed to hear for thirteen years of  
  
pain and darkness.  
  
I try to speak, but I can't produce any sound.  
  
Without even noticing that I'm walking I move closer to the three travelers. Adolfus raise his head  
  
from the small prince's arm and look confusedly at me. Perhaps he can recognize me, somehow...  
  
Schala and the child watches me warily, but they don't back off.  
  
Like a zombie I reach for the pocket where I keep my amulet, and take it out.  
  
"I'm... Schala, I'm..." I whisper and hold my hand forth.  
  
They stare at the blue gem.  
  
"But... that's mine!" the prince stutters.  
  
"I gave it to..." Schala whispers, also stuttering.  
  
Their staring eyes come to me again, and there's a growing fear and shock in their gazes now. So  
  
painful... I have to look away.  
  
"Thirteen years..." fall from my weak lips.  
  
"Janus?!" Schala stutters, the name almost inaudible.  
  
My knees hit the frozen ground, becoming buried in the deep snow. My gloved hands also  
  
disappear into the white mass. Stop staring at me like that! I can't handle it!  
  
Two hands come to my shoulders, I look up into the gems that are the eyes of my sister. The fear is  
  
gone, replaced with a deep concern and worry.  
  
"Janus, is that you?" she says, shaking my shoulders to make me pull myself together.  
  
I look at her and manage to nod.  
  
"I come from the future..." I whisper, feeling the stare of myself as a child, "I came to help you."  
  
She frowns, squeezing my shoulders with her hands as she tries to pick something from the boiling  
  
pot of questions.  
  
"What happened?" she finally asks, "what has happened to you?"  
  
No, no... you mustn't know what you couldn't save me from, Schala...  
  
I exhaustedly shake my head.  
  
"It's nothing I will tell you," I say, placing my own hands on her shoulders, "right now we have to  
  
go to the Earthbound village and wait for Dalton."  
  
"Dalton?" both Schala and the prince exclaims.  
  
I manage to stagger to my feet, Schala follows me.  
  
"He's coming for you," I tell her, "to take you to the Ocean Palace. Lavos awoke and I were thrown  
  
through a magical portal to another time. The gurus too. I don't know what happened to you and the  
  
kingdom, but it's gone and forgotten many thousands of years from now. And I..."  
  
I fall silent.  
  
What? I grew up among monsters, I fought as a slave, I lost my mind because I was tortured every  
  
day? Nothing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
I shake my head again.  
  
"Come on, I'll bring you there. This place isn't safe."  
  
I put my fingertips together and starts to chant.  
  
"But I can't use magic!" the small prince squeals.  
  
His face is a mask of disbelief and fear. I can understand that. It really is a shock to meet yourself,  
  
even if you know it's coming. And he wasn't prepared at all.  
  
"That's just what you think," I say as the air begins to sparkle.  
  
There.  
  
The few Earthbound ones left in the cave where I slept earlier back away in shock as the four of us  
  
comes out of a flashing light. Both Schala and the boy looks around in surprise.  
  
"What was that?" my sister asks, frowning.  
  
"Flea taught... a magician of the future taught me it," I answer.  
  
She looks sharply at me.  
  
"That's not a spell created by humans, Janus," she says.  
  
I hoped she wouldn't notice. It was foolish of me.  
  
"I know," I say, without any expression in my voice.  
  
The boy watches both of us warily.  
  
"Who taught you that spell?" Schala asks.  
  
"A magician named Flea, in the future."  
  
"Is he a human?"  
  
I slowly shake my head.  
  
"No," I mutter.  
  
"You mean a monster taught you how to use magic?" she asks.  
  
"No," I say, "it awoke within me by itself, then Flea gave me lessons."  
  
"Why would a monster do that?"  
  
"For his own reasons."  
  
"Janus..."  
  
I shake my head, marking the border. Schala watches me concernedly, but I refuse to give her any  
  
more pieces of the horrifying puzzle. I have already said too much.  
  
"Excuse me... Your Highnesses..." a stuttering voice mumbles.  
  
We all turn to look at a man of the Earthbound ones.  
  
"The guru Melchior and the three warriors are below," he continues, "if you want to see them..."  
  
Schala exchanges glances with me and the boy. I nod.  
  
I go first after the man, Schala and myself as a child follows me, holding Adolfus in a nervous grip.  
  
Somehow I'd like to talk to the boy... I really, really want to talk to him. However I have no idea what I  
  
could tell him.  
  
But I have to save him from becoming what I am. Even if that could mean altering history so  
  
gravely that this me cease to exist.  
  
A bitter smile touches my lips. To sacrifice this man, the man that I have become... this  
  
nothingness. This wasted life. I have nothing to live for, the memories I have assembled are not worth  
  
to keep alive. And I am nothing but those memories.  
  
I live to save Schala and kill Lavos. Should I fall, it won't be a great loss. As long as Schala is safe,  
  
I don't matter at all.  
  
But a golden ray suddenly cuts through my bitter thoughts.  
  
Isn't it fantastic? She's only got my word for being her brother and the amulet as proof, but that's  
  
enough for her. It's not much, but enough. She knows me. Somehow she can feel that I am her  
  
brother. That is fantastic, that is magic. These destructive powers I can use, they are not of true  
  
magic. But that feeling of closeness, that knowledge... that is a wonder.  
  
The bitter smile changes into a soft one.  
  
The man hurries into a cave, not much different from all the others.  
  
"Princess Schala and the prince... s are here!" he says.  
  
"What?" a voice I remember as the guru Melchior's says with a great deal of confusion.  
  
"We have yet to give you required information," the beeping voice of... Robo announces.  
  
"Congratulations on finding him," I say as I enter the cave.  
  
Crono smiles that he should tell me the same, concerning my sister and myself.  
  
"What are you talking about?" Melchior blankly asks, looking at me with a frown.  
  
"Melchior, I'm so glad you're safe," Schala smiles and steps forward from behind me.  
  
The guru turn to her instead, surprised.  
  
"Princess Schala, prince Janus?" he says, "what are you doing here?"  
  
"Why have you come to these filthy caves?" the elder asks, concerned.  
  
Schala shakes her head.  
  
"Stop thinking of yourself like that," she says with a rare glistening of frustration in her voice, "the  
  
only difference between you and us up there is that you're not possessed by Lavos!"  
  
Melchior have to give a small, soft smile at the unusual strength in those words.  
  
"But princess, why are you here? Weren't you supposed to..."  
  
"No," my sister says, grimly, "I won't go to the Ocean Palace. And without me the Mammon  
  
Machine won't work."  
  
From the corner of my eye I see the prince walk up against the wall, timid as I remember I was.  
  
Felt as if everyone was disturbing me, intruding.  
  
I will do all I can to save him from learning how intruding people can be when they really want  
  
you to work for them.  
  
But something is wrong. I frown.  
  
No... this is not how I remember it... it's different. I can't remember meeting myself, and the words  
  
spoken aren't the same... plus, Frog should be here, not Marle. History has changed, but my memory  
  
hasn't. Could that mean that the change is so great that it requires a different time stream? That I  
  
don't belong here, I cannot change whatever happens now?  
  
The thoughts are so complicated and huge that it's almost impossible to understand them.  
  
"But what has happened?" Schala ask Crono, glancing at me, "what has really brought you here?"  
  
'Off limits,' I warn the young man via telepathy.  
  
He blinks of the surprise of hearing my voice inside of his head, but then starts to explain to  
  
Schala and all the others who don't know about the time traveling.  
  
Lavos is ruling the future, and we won't allow that. In order to stop him we needed a man from this  
  
era, and that is the grown prince Janus. Him.  
  
He points at me. Melchior stares in disbelief.  
  
"Janus?" he says, slowly.  
  
"I grew up over twelve thousand years from now, in the future," I calmly say, "in order to return and  
  
fight I had to grow strong there and meet the group of time travelers."  
  
"But you can't be me!" the prince weakly whispers, "I can't use magic, I can't!"  
  
I look at him, feeling somewhat helpless. He looks at me with terror, and his weak words are really  
  
nothing but a desperate battle against something so forcefully mystifying that he cannot understand it.  
  
And that makes him even more scared.  
  
The memories of my first painful moments as Ozzie's prisoner are almost overwhelming, I have to  
  
struggle to keep from trying to back away from the stench of horror filling my head.  
  
Schala hurries over to him and sits down on her knees, catching him in a calming hug.  
  
"Look, Janus," she mumbles, soothingly, "it's truly surprising, but it is you. I know it's you,  
  
I know you. It's nothing to be afraid of, really..."  
  
"But he can't be me, he's an adult!" the prince mutters.  
  
I have to look away. I'm afraid of myself as a grown man.  
  
Boy, you have the right to fear. Fear being me.  
  
I fear to be you, having all the pain in front of me.  
  
"I am you," I say in a low voice, forcing myself to turn my head at the boy, "I know all your  
  
thoughts, but I won't tell any of them here. I know how you feel when people try to force you to open  
  
yourself to them."  
  
He looks away, squeezing Schala's shoulder with his small hands. She turns her head to look at the  
  
rest of the world, without letting go of him.  
  
"I have to ask you and your friends to fight for us," she says, looking at me, Crono, Robo and Marle,  
  
"I have left the skyway open. You have to stop my mother."  
  
A nail goes through my head. Those words...! Dalton!  
  
'Look out!' I telepathically snarl to everyone in the room.  
  
The question is, what startled them most? My silent, inner voice or the loud, sneering one?  
  
"Why don't we hold it right there, my dear?" 


	7. Foreshadowing (and Magus hates me foreve...

1 ~*~Chapter 7 Lashey, princess of Garadia~*~  
  
Dalton enters the cave, smirking. The Earthbound men back away in fear. That Enlightened one is  
  
not popular down here.  
  
Schala lets go of the small Janus and moves away from him; knowing who Dalton is after. Adolfus  
  
jumps out of the prince's grip, hissing in rage.  
  
"Treason, my dear?" Dalton continues, "your mother will hear about this!"  
  
I react too slowly. As I remembered, he jumped over to her and grabbed her arm so that it almost  
  
broke. But he teleports instead. I have no possibility to stop him.  
  
Schala groans in pain as the strong hand closes around her upper arm.  
  
"Let her go!" the prince screech and leaps forward.  
  
I blink as he is hit by Dalton's other hand and is thrown backwards into the wall. The pain of the  
  
hit burns in my memory, almost as when I got it.  
  
Not worse than the accursed whip, but still somehow very painful.  
  
"The queen's children all seem have a problem with authority, don't they?" the general says, and  
  
there's a deep scornfulness in his voice and eyes as he looks down at the dizzy prince.  
  
So that's what he said.  
  
Adolfus desperately rubs his head against the little Janus' arm, trying to bring him back.  
  
We have a problem with authority, we who are children of the queen. Indeed, Dalton, we have.  
  
Crono draws his sword, Marle rips her crossbow from her back and Robo raises his arms. They are  
  
forced to duck for a fireball that almost hits Melchior instead.  
  
"Stand back," Dalton sneers, "the life of this woman means nothing to me."  
  
The three warriors hesitate, then draw back in anger.  
  
"That's it..."  
  
With yet another sneer the one-eyed general forces Schala one step forward.  
  
He stops, and his single eye goes over me as I silently block the exit.  
  
"You obviously didn't hear me..."  
  
He falls silent, looking at my hair with a frown.  
  
"I advice you to let go of my sister," I coldly say.  
  
Dalton looks at me with the disbelief I'm getting used to.  
  
"What did you say?" he says.  
  
"He's me, you creep!" the prince harshly whispers, "he's here from the future!"  
  
The lonely eye sharply watches me.  
  
"You?" he slowly says, with a peculiar mix of disbelief and fascination, "you are supposed to  
  
be that little worthless freak?"  
  
Worthless worm... you worthless, thickheaded worm, Magus!  
  
"Worthless because I can't use magic?" I calmly say, "a freak because I am born unable to perform  
  
any task using power granted by Lavos? No..."  
  
I take one step forward, and Schala turns her head away. But I still notice the fear rising in her  
  
eyes; she can't help it. Even my allies back off a little at my appearance. Dalton tries to fight it, but I  
  
see the small glistening of nervous tension in his eyes.  
  
"No, I am a blessed Enlightened one," I say, still calm, "I have never prayed to Lavos. I lived in  
  
darkness for an eternity, but still I never praised complete evil. Instead, I found true power in the  
  
world itself. And the world doesn't like to carry deceases like you, Dalton."  
  
I raise one hand, almost lazily.  
  
"Would you try it, sir?" I say, "I could blow up this entire cave with a wave of my hand, keeping  
  
everyone except you alive. Can you do that? Do you know anyone who can?"  
  
With satisfaction I see the fright in his eyes, but he force himself not to back.  
  
Still...  
  
I notice that there is something peculiar about the fear deep inside of Dalton's eyes. It's not pure...  
  
it's fear, but it's... more. Fascination, again? What kind of emotion is that in this moment?  
  
What does it matter?  
  
I try to tell myself that, but somewhere I feel that I must be prepared for anything. There's no  
  
guarantee that he hasn't got any more dirty tricks up his sleeve.  
  
Whatever he might do, I won't let him get away this time.  
  
I begin to assemble the focus, a short spell is all...  
  
"Janus, wake up!"  
  
My eyes fly open.  
  
"What?" I mutter, disoriented.  
  
Where am I now, not in the Earthbound village?  
  
Schala is in front of me, frowning. And behind her... only sky.  
  
"Why are you sleeping up here?" she asks.  
  
"Up here?"  
  
I look down. Yes, the ground is far away. A small crowd looks up at me and Schala.  
  
It hits me again. Molor made me sleep... and kept me floating.  
  
"Don't ask," I grimly mutters.  
  
'I am sorry,' Molor whispers, 'I had to.'  
  
'What are you doing?' I demand.  
  
'Trying to stop reaction. Worse now.'  
  
'What is happening to me, Molor? Answer me!'  
  
'I can't!'  
  
'Molor!'  
  
'It is forbidden!'  
  
'I don't care! Tell me!'  
  
'I can't!'  
  
Force him! Magus within me shouts, you know that you can make him talk, if not with words then  
  
with other methods!  
  
He almost startles me. He has never shouted that loudly before. Almost as if he was standing  
  
behind me...  
  
No.  
  
Just because you want it that way... I know you're right, and because of that I won't do it.  
  
You are not a part of me.  
  
'Fine!' I snarl at Molor.  
  
'Friend...'  
  
'Just stop attacking me,' I snap.  
  
"What is it?" I ask Schala, forcing myself to calm down.  
  
Not only am I mad at Molor, but my dreamed hatred and anger still burns me. I had to see it all  
  
again, all those things I had pushed away. I hardly remembered any of it even in my awakened status.  
  
The pain I felt as I was hit by Dalton, of course that was nothing in compare with what I  
  
experienced among the Mystics... Schala's grimace of agony as he grabbed her like that... but still,  
  
that hit...  
  
It bothers me, somehow.  
  
The queen's children all seem to have a problem with authority, don't they?  
  
I frown.  
  
The queen's children...  
  
Why does that sound so strange, played time after time in my memory?  
  
"Janus, what's the matter?" Schala asks.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"No, you first," I mutter, rubbing my forehead.  
  
She sighs.  
  
"Look, I'd really want you to stop this mysterious behavior," she says, placing her fine hands on my  
  
shoulders, "do you understand, Janus? I'm your sister, I care for you! Tell me what's happening,  
  
please!"  
  
I look at her and shake my head again.  
  
"I don't know, Schala," I say, slowly, "something's happening and I don't know what it is. Molor is  
  
trying to do something to stop it, but I don't know anything about that either."  
  
Dalton sneering down at me...  
  
I shake my head a third time.  
  
"What do you know, then?" she asks, frowning deeply.  
  
"Charash is trying something, that's all I know."  
  
My memory blinks, reminding me about a fact. I look sharply at my sister.  
  
"What are you doing up here?" I demand, "you shouldn't be using magic!"  
  
"Janus..."  
  
She sighs again and nods, giving in to that truth and knowing that I have said everything I ever  
  
will. I take her hands from my shoulders and dissolve the spell that keeps her floating. My own magic  
  
brings both of us to the ground.  
  
Now what's going on down here?  
  
Seems like the whole village have assembled, but there are about twenty people more than usual.  
  
Men and women dressed in the clothing of warriors, but their clothes are white instead of the usual  
  
soft brown.  
  
"What is this about?" I ask Schala.  
  
"Excuse me..." one of the strangers says.  
  
The embroideries on his uniform shows that he's got a better title than the rest of the troop.  
  
'Brother?' Cered's voice whispers inside of my head.  
  
Now that even surprises me.  
  
'When did you learn telepathy?' I send back.  
  
I can't see him for the moment, but I'm sure he's somewhere in the crowd, trying to get closer.  
  
''Tis not important,' he says, 'these people come from the emperor himself, I bid of thee to behave...  
  
please!'  
  
'What?'  
  
'Dost not be rude!'  
  
'Humph.'  
  
"We hath traveled here by the orders of the great emperor himself," the captain or whatever he is  
  
announces, "to find the sorcerer Janus. I dare to guess that thou art the one."  
  
"What is it now then?" I ask and absentmindedly shake my cloak to let Molor out.  
  
I hear Cered groan telepathically.  
  
Molor silently lies flat on the ground, but his appearance is enough to make several of the royal  
  
warriors turn pale.  
  
"Dare I wonder what the commotion is about?" Frog's voice says.  
  
He lands by my side after leaping over quite a few heads.  
  
'Show-off,' I silently tell him, smiling in my mind.  
  
'My belief was that thee enjoyed such occasions,' he grins back.  
  
'It must be done with certain manners.'  
  
'Oh, truly... wise words to come from a man in thy position,' he snorts.  
  
For a short moment I'm amused with both Frog's words and the looks on the guests' faces, but that  
  
feeling dies almost instantly for my itching irritation.  
  
Killing Dalton right now would have been a good day's work and a nice way of getting rid of some  
  
tension due to whatever is happening to me. But no, no... when I would have needed to dream, I  
  
can't. This irony is getting tiring.  
  
And speaking of itching, now both my hands are...  
  
"Dost thee house monsters in this village?" the captain asks, rather sharply.  
  
"No, sir," Schala calmly says, "Frog here is a human."  
  
The knight smiles and performs one of those bows he uses when he's in the mood for joking.  
  
"I am truly human," he says, "yet my guise might seem different. Alas, a few hours ago myself and  
  
the warlock thou seek hath a minor discussion and now I carry this appearance."  
  
Hmm. He's got a sense for it, after all... I just wish I could enjoy it.  
  
Have a problem with authority, don't they? The queen's children...  
  
I'm getting an urge to scream at him to shut up...  
  
'Dost thee do this only to pain me?' Cered groans, ''tis the royal guard! From the emperor!'  
  
'I have already understood that,' I mutter.  
  
'Please show a little respect, I beg of thee...'  
  
I force myself to keep from rolling my eyes. For Cered it is surely a great honor to have such a  
  
delegation in his hometown, but for me... I can't stand royalty. Especially not since I once was one  
  
myself.  
  
Only a source of irritation. They always seem to think that they can push everyone around.  
  
Very irritating, indeed.  
  
Either pushing around or being Marle. And she can be quite irritating too.  
  
The queen's children...  
  
By the powers, he's even worse than Magus! Why can't I stop those words from returning over and  
  
over again?  
  
"Just ignore the toad," I say without any expression in my voice, forcing my frustration back, "what  
  
is the problem?"  
  
The captain have to force his staring eyes off Frog.  
  
"The emperor summons thee," he finally says, "he wishes to know if thee know anything about the  
  
dragon that attacked many of our land's fair towns some days ago."  
  
His words doesn't shock me at all. But my urge to laugh does. Not laugh shortly, but to laugh  
  
loudly and for a long time.  
  
Ask me about Charash?! Ha!  
  
By the powers, am I going mad?  
  
I fight back a wish to rub my face with my gloved, itching hands. The itch is infernally irritating,  
  
but I refuse to let it win.  
  
"I honestly don't know anything about the dragon," I calmly say.  
  
"Thee must tell the emperor that, not me," the captain replies.  
  
For all the powers of the world, I can't leave the village when Charash still is out there somewhere!  
  
I have to see to it nothing happens to Schala and Schaliya!  
  
Humph, you help creating the only village completely free from monster attacks, and suddenly  
  
you're "the sorcerer Janus", supposed to be able to wave off the giant dragon like a fly? Sorcerer? I  
  
really prefer wizard or warlock. Sorcerer has something of a crystal-tower over it...  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"It's a three days journey to the capital, isn't it?" I point out, "I haven't got time to be gone from here  
  
for a week. I have a sister and her family to protect if the big lizard came back."  
  
'Thou art going to kill me, brother...' Cered silently groans and finally makes his way through the  
  
crowd.  
  
"Thou refuse to heed the call of the emperor?" the captain growls, and many of the townspeople back  
  
away in fear.  
  
Cered looks at me. He's got a rare look of "I will slain thee!" in his eyes. I silently sigh.  
  
'You better go, Janus,' Schala whispers inside of my head, 'there'll only be trouble if you don't. We  
  
can hold our ground for an hour or so.'  
  
True words, royalty is nothing but problems.  
  
Problem with authority...  
  
I clench my teeth.  
  
Dalton should be dead now over there. I try to think of that fact instead of remembering his  
  
accursed words.  
  
Well then. If anything should happen here, Schala or Cered can call me through telepathy. That's  
  
harmless, even for a pregnant woman.  
  
"No, I'll come," I say, growling inside of my mind, "I just think that it's a waste of time since I can't  
  
help. Now let's get this over with."  
  
I look around at Frog, Schala, Cered and the townspeople.  
  
"You better move away," I calmly tell them.  
  
"I think I better come with thee, brother," Cered resolutely says.  
  
"If you absolutely want to."  
  
I'm not in the mood for arguing with him for the moment. As the others back away I reach out and  
  
touch the captain's forehead with two fingers. If he's going to think that he can give me orders, he  
  
can take a little show and nervousness.  
  
"Now think of our destination," I tell him as he tries to move away, "and I advice you to concentrate  
  
on the ground and not on the ocean by the town."  
  
He freezes, and I reach into his mind. Of course I don't even have to stand before him to do that,  
  
but I think he deserves the tension of believing he's deciding our fate. I easily find what he's thinking  
  
of, just by the border of his realm of thoughts. The word "destination" is almost always enough.  
  
I begin to chant.  
  
Travel.  
  
There.  
  
Queen's children...  
  
I could roar of rage! Shut up, Dalton!  
  
It actually surprises me that I manage to send us to the right place and not into the heart of the  
  
earth.  
  
When the flashing light disappears most of the soldiers loose their balance of the sheer surprise.  
  
The captain turns his head, staring at the painted walls at all sides of the great courtyard. Many  
  
warriors that were training there are staring at us, looking rather shocked.  
  
"Shall we go?" I calmly ask the commander, looking down at him.  
  
He scrambles to his feet and dusts off his uniform. The men and women of his small troop do as  
  
him.  
  
To the south the roofs of this land's capital city can be seen, behind the red wall. To the north is the  
  
palace, an enormous building of wood. It's mostly painted red and is decorated with green and golden  
  
statues of various animals and fabled creatures. Many dragons, I notice with a great deal of sarcasm.  
  
But I suppose those are the good ones...  
  
Children all seem to have...  
  
Shut up!  
  
'Why is that bothering you?' Molor asks, carefully.  
  
'If I knew I wouldn't be bothered!' I snap, absentmindedly rubbing the cloth covering the back of my right  
  
hand.  
  
I am suddenly hit by a great sadness pouring out of Molor's very being, so deep that I almost  
  
stumble.  
  
'What is it?' I ask, forgetting my anger completely.  
  
He looks up at me, crawling by my side. Always by my side, since the first time we met. High  
  
headedly, not flat against the ground as other snakes.  
  
'I wish I could tell, and I wish I could help,' he sadly says, 'but I cannot. Believe me.'  
  
I look down at him, frowning.  
  
He is my kindred spirit, a part of my soul. Why can't I hold on to that knowledge, why can't I keep  
  
believing in him? I have to know that whatever he does, it's nothing that is against me.  
  
I have to trust him, I know that. If I can't trust him, I can't even trust myself. He is me, I am him.  
  
It's a simple fact that nobody can understand. Our bond is too deeply rooted.  
  
It's too precious to be thrown away like that, even if he's not being honest. He must have reasons, I  
  
must believe in that.  
  
I hold out my hand and he raises his head even more so that I can touch it. When I do that it's  
  
never a question of being superior or showing real tenderness. It's a confirmation of our alliance.  
  
He doesn't have to say a word of gratefulness. I can feel his relief.  
  
And I don't have to tell him that I am sorry for doubting.  
  
But still that sadness lives on inside of him, and he can't hide it to me.  
  
And I am certain that I can't ask him.  
  
We enter the palace itself.  
  
'Brother,' Cered says telepathically, rather sharply, 'I know what thee think, but in this land and time  
  
the emperor hast supreme power. I am only asking of thee to show a little respect.'  
  
'I hope you aren't trying to say that I should throw myself on the floor before him, Cered,' I reply,  
  
emotionless.  
  
'I might wish that I could ask of thee that favor,' he tiredly says, 'but I know thee better.'  
  
'Good.'  
  
'But please do not be too rude.'  
  
He is really tense. I almost smile.  
  
Just a plain guardian of the emperor's peace, born and living in a remote village. Now up to see the  
  
emperor himself. Even I can guess that such a thing is pretty fantastic. I don't care much myself. I  
  
just want to tell the ruler that I can't do more than anyone else about Charash for the time being, and  
  
then return to the village. It could be that only the Masamune has a chance to hurt the dragon, but  
  
should he come I don't want to be abroad and face a risk of coming two seconds too late to rip my  
  
niece out of the way.  
  
The Masamune... Glenn... what he knew about Charash...?  
  
Oh, no.  
  
'Cered,' I send to him, 'does the emperor have a daughter?'  
  
I sense his surprise.  
  
'I did not believe that thou cared,' he says.  
  
'Does he have a daughter?' I repeat, frowning.  
  
'Indeed, the flower of our fair country...'  
  
'Do you remember what Glenn could recall about Charash?' I ask.  
  
He is silent for a moment.  
  
'A bride of royal blood?' he finally says.  
  
It takes him one second to understand.  
  
'By the heavens, thou dost not believe that...?!' he silently exclaims.  
  
'Yes, I do,' I grimly say.  
  
'But why?' he asks, very concerned.  
  
'I don't know why, but don't dragons always do that kind of rubbish in the fairytales?' I say and roll  
  
my eyes.  
  
'But she is a human, what kind of bride be that for a dragon?'  
  
'It might just be a romantic description of a snack.'  
  
'Janus, we cannot allow that!'  
  
I silently sigh.  
  
'No, I know,' I mutter.  
  
Lovely. Just what we all needed; a royal damsel in distress.  
  
This is definitely something I'd like to let Crono and Frog handle, it's close to getting too silly. But  
  
I'm afraid that just won't be allowed.  
  
After a truly oversized stairway a gate is opened by four guards. Good grief, why do they always  
  
have to overdo every single building if they have a "better" title?  
  
I won't even comment the emperor's throne. The great one himself is a man in his fifties, wearing  
  
a yellow robe with red and green embroideries. As almost everything else in the palace, it's very  
  
exaggerated.  
  
He's wearing no crown, at least that's something... on his head is only his long grey hair, and he's  
  
got a matching mustache and beard.  
  
By the walls an army of servants stand, and just beside the throne is what only can be the princess.  
  
A young woman, about twenty.  
  
At least she seems to have a little more reasonable taste of clothing than her father. She's wearing a  
  
soft-red dress of silk, and instead of a massive wave of cloth like her father's robe her dress falls  
  
straight to her feet. There's only silver embroideries on the ends of her wide sleeves and across her  
  
chest. Her long black hair falls down her back.  
  
Hmm, that's a unique necklace she's wearing. Looks like a snake biting its own tail. At this  
  
distance I can't judge what metal it's made of, but it's very light. Almost white.  
  
Of course the soldiers, including Cered, have to throw themselves on their knees and hit the floor  
  
with their foreheads to greet their emperor. Such a ridiculous custom...  
  
Not even Magus forced the Mystics to do that. Maybe only because half of them wouldn't be able  
  
to get up again, but anyhow he didn't.  
  
'Brother!' Cered more or less pleads into my mind.  
  
I silently sigh.  
  
'Just this once, Cered.'  
  
'I thank thee.'  
  
Pursing my mouth I place my forearm across my chest and bow.  
  
"We were not expecting thee this quickly, sorcerer," the emperor says.  
  
"I hope that's not a problem," I reply, straightening up again as quickly as I bent.  
  
"No, certainly not."  
  
I notice that the princess' eyebrows twitch once as she looks at me, but I don't care much about it.  
  
"Dare I ask how thee managed to come here so quickly?" the emperor wonders.  
  
The queen's children...  
  
For heaven's sake!  
  
Am I going mad? Such wonderful timing...  
  
"I believe that my way of traveling is your reason for summoning me here, your majesty," I say,  
  
forcing myself to calm down.  
  
I need to do something about whatever it is that's happening. The dreams could be worse enough  
  
by themselves, but with Charash and his dark heart it's beginning to become too much.  
  
How come a simple, scornful comment from Dalton makes me so irritated?  
  
"Ah, yes."  
  
The emperor nods.  
  
"There seems to be a dragon setting the towns of our fair land on fire," he says, "and I wish to know  
  
if thou hath any knowledge about it. That is since thou as far as I know art the only magus in this dark  
  
age."  
  
Suddenly I have this urge of breaking his thin neck...  
  
'Brother!' Cered whispers, he being the only human who feels the air get colder.  
  
'Calm down,' Molor warns, almost nervously.  
  
"That is partly incorrect, your majesty," I say, emotionless, "to be honest both my sister Schala and  
  
brother in law Cered here also are skilled magicians."  
  
The princess' eyebrows twitch again, but I don't even throw a glance in her direction. I can see her  
  
perfectly in the corner of my eye.  
  
"I see," the emperor says, "then I should ask both of thee if thee can help us in any way."  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"No, your majesty," I say, "as long as the dragon is hiding none of us can do more than you can."  
  
He frowns.  
  
"'Tis a growing problem," he says, "for my people live in fear for the next attack."  
  
I could of course travel one year or so forward in time and see what's left of the fair land. But I  
  
don't fancy finding a future in which Schaliya is dead. Not that I don't trust Frog and the others to  
  
fight, but I feel a need to be there. She is my responsibility, she and her mother. Cered might be the  
  
girl's father, but I feel just as needed. I won't leave until Charash is gone, and that's that.  
  
"I can understand your worry," I say, still without any expression in my voice, "but there isn't much  
  
neither me nor my brother in law and sister can do to help for the moment. All I can do is help you  
  
with a precaution."  
  
"And what would that be, sorcerer?" the emperor asks, with a small grain of hope in his voice.  
  
I throw a full glance at the princess and sigh silently.  
  
Then I frown, but only in my own mind.  
  
'Fascinating,' Molor dryly says, ironically.  
  
'Stupid,' I mutter, honestly.  
  
That's not a necklace she's wearing. At least as far as I know, normal jewelry doesn't move too  
  
much. Even if it was a very small movement, it was still there.  
  
It's a small, white snake.  
  
Charming.  
  
I sigh again. This isn't exactly getting better.  
  
"I don't want to make you even more worried," I say, forcing my voice to stay dry of feelings, "but  
  
knowing children's stories dragons have peculiar interests."  
  
"Dost thee mean that Lashey could be in danger?" the emperor says, frowning and looking at the  
  
princess.  
  
"I'm simply guessing," I lie.  
  
I reach up and rip a hair from my head. Then I hold it between my thumb and pointing finger,  
  
muttering a spell of change. The thin thread turns into a brooch, in the form of a snake crawled  
  
together.  
  
Indeed, I am in the mood for being sarcastic.  
  
"Should something happen, this will make it possible for me to find you, your highness," I coldly say  
  
and send the brooch floating into her rather surprised grip, "and it matches your other... jewelry too."  
  
She looks up at me and gives a peculiar smile. I don't like it at all, the way she's looking at me. It  
  
makes me nervous.  
  
Yes, me. She gives me the creeps.  
  
"Thou hath sharp eyes, sorcerer," she says, "most people dost not see Liech's true appearance until  
  
she bites."  
  
The small snake lets go of its tail and crawls down her arm, examining the brooch.  
  
'Silly thing,' Molor more or less shudders.  
  
It's calming to know that he always understands...  
  
"If that would be all, your majesty," I say to the emperor, trying to ignore the princess, "my brother  
  
in law, Molor and myself have our own places in the world. Good day."  
  
I don't even wait for a reply before starting to chant the traveling spell.  
  
"Was there something that bothered thee, brother?" Cered carefully asks and gets up from the ground  
  
by the village's well.  
  
"You almost lost an emperor for a poor pick of words, my friend," I coldly say and begin to walk off,  
  
"and apart from that I don't enjoy being looked upon as some kind of exhibition dog. If that silly girl  
  
should risk getting roasted by Charash, don't expect me to jump in between."  
  
"What was that all about?" I hear Marle blankly ask even as I'm floating towards the sky to  
  
start my watch out again.  
  
"The emperor called him a magus," Cered says, just as puzzled, "but I hath no idea why the princess  
  
made him so angry..."  
  
Humph.  
  
Stupid girl. I can't stand people looking at me like that, as if I was an interesting bug. No one has  
  
done that ever since I was the prince of Zeal.  
  
And that snake she had, the undeniable pointing at Molor... it somehow makes me frustrated. As if  
  
I needed more of that.  
  
Children all seem...  
  
I could scream. I could really do it.  
  
But I won't. I used up screams for a lifetime during my first years among the Mystics. I have none  
  
left.  
  
My hands itch. Without thinking about it I rub my right palm against the back of my left hand.  
  
Why is Dalton tormenting me, with a simple comment like that? Haven't I heard worse insults than  
  
what he gave me, things that should never be heard by a living soul? Haven't I faced worse pain than  
  
a slap knocking me backwards?  
  
It's just too many things right now. I'm becoming mentally exhausted.  
  
I need peace of mind. Last time I had that was... just after Schala and Cered married. And before  
  
that? When did I ever rest when I carried my other name?  
  
'Not good,' Molor mutters somewhere inside of my mind, but I have a feeling that he is talking more  
  
to himself than to me.  
  
'What?' I ask anyhow.  
  
He's silent for a moment, but when he speaks it's with rare frustration and somehow revolting.  
  
'You have to find focus, or it penetrates your will even faster, friend,' he snarls.  
  
'Ah. Charming.'  
  
I take a deep breath and close my eyes.  
  
There must be some way of finding peace somewhere among this twisted net of problems and  
  
thoughts.  
  
Focus. I have to focus on something completely different, something that hasn't got anything to do  
  
with any of my normal matters. Something trivial.  
  
For some reason I think of a tree.  
  
Fair enough.  
  
Branches. Trunk. Sunlight reflecting on the whispering leaves, shadows dancing over the wood...  
  
Hmm, it's actually working. I never thought of trees before, they were just small parts of every  
  
forest in the world. But they are relaxing to concentrate on.  
  
My mind lays down in the calmness surrounding it as it pushes everything else aside. Rests to  
  
regain strength. Not even Dalton can bother me now.  
  
I have no idea for how long I rest there, floating above the village encircled by peace.  
  
But at some point I fall into a fragile slumber.  
  
For the rest of my existence I won't ever stop wishing that I never had fallen asleep again. For the  
  
dream that attacked me then left a wound that is very hard to heal, no matter how much help I got. 


	8. Yep, he really, really hates me

1 ~*~Chapter 8 The darkest of truths~*~  
  
I take one step forward, and Schala turns her head away. But I still notice the fear rising in her eyes;  
  
she can't help it. Even my allies back off a little at my appearance. Dalton tries to fight it, but I see  
  
the small glistening of nervous tension in his eyes.  
  
"No, I am a blessed Enlightened one," I say, still calm, "I have never prayed to Lavos. I lived in  
  
darkness for an eternity, but still I never praised complete evil. Instead, I found true power in the  
  
world itself. And the world doesn't like to carry deceases like you, Dalton."  
  
I raise one hand, almost lazily.  
  
"Would you try it, sir?" I say, "I could blow up this entire cave with a wave of my hand, keeping  
  
everyone except you alive. Can you do that? Do you know anyone who can?"  
  
With satisfaction I notice the fright in his eyes, but he force himself not to back.  
  
Still...  
  
I notice that there is something peculiar about the fear deep inside of Dalton's eyes. It's not pure...  
  
it's fear, but it's... more. Fascination, again? What kind of emotion is that in this moment?  
  
What does it matter?  
  
I try to tell myself that, but somewhere I feel that I must be prepared for anything. There's no  
  
guarantee that he hasn't got any more dirty tricks up his sleeve.  
  
Whatever he might do, I won't let him get away this time.  
  
I begin to assemble the focus, a short spell is all...  
  
Schala throws her head at me, her eyes wide in fear. At the same time as Dalton growls, she calls  
  
out to me.  
  
"Janus, don't!"  
  
"I don't think that you should do that, if you really are Janus."  
  
I freeze my focus, looking at Schala with a frown. Dalton watches her too, with his eyebrows  
  
raised.  
  
"I see..." he says with a growing sneer.  
  
He turns to me again, a lot less tense than just a few seconds ago.  
  
"You should listen to your sister," he smirks.  
  
"I could listen to her, not you," I coldly say and keep looking at Schala, "why, sister?"  
  
She looks away, furiously shaking her head.  
  
"Do something else, hurry!" she snarls.  
  
I never heard her speak in such a desperate way before, except that last time I saw her before being  
  
thrown through time to my own personal hell. The memory sends claws through my mountain of  
  
memories, causing an earthquake. My focus shatters, my hand falls.  
  
Perhaps she meant that I should have locked Dalton into a crystal or something similar. Whatever  
  
she wanted me to, I have no possibility to understand.  
  
"Your sweet big sister is right about that you shouldn't kill me, Janus," Dalton says, sneering.  
  
"I see no reason not to," I coldly reply and tries to assemble my will again.  
  
Schala shakes her head once more, biting her lower lip.  
  
"You must understand one plain fact," Dalton says, "her wishes have nothing to do with mercy but a  
  
simple principle, I'm afraid."  
  
"You tire me," I sharply say.  
  
I don't care about what any of them are talking about, I've had enough. Dalton's sneer makes my tortured  
  
mind boil, another smirk is nothing I need.  
  
"Don't even think about it," he says as I rise my hand again.  
  
I don't even reply, stretching my pointing finger towards him.  
  
"Janus, don't do it!" Schala harshly says, "you mustn't!"  
  
Frowning, I look at her. Why doesn't she want Dalton to die? Doesn't she want to be saved all the  
  
pain to come? I cannot understand...  
  
"Why?" I ask.  
  
She shakes her head again, desperately.  
  
"It's simple," I hear Dalton say, somehow as if through a thick wall, as if I wasn't meant to hear  
  
what he's saying, "now, I don't know how she found out, but what she wants you to know is what you  
  
are."  
  
"That sounded very philosophical," I coldly say, "but I..."  
  
"You are a mistake," he interrupts, smirking again, "nothing but a mistake, Janus."  
  
I slowly raise my gaze to his face. He throws a glance at the little prince, who stares at him with an  
  
unease growing for every second.  
  
The realization in my childhood's eyes grows within mine too. But I do not want to understand. I  
  
do not want to hear the words spoken. If they are true, then I must deny the truth.  
  
I have lived in the darkness, surrounded by evil and been a part of it. It bent me, forced me to my  
  
knees. But the hate I feel for the Mystics is an egoistic hatred, grown from nothing but myself.  
  
My hatred for Dalton come from the pain in Schala's eyes. No matter how many times Ozzie hit  
  
me, that blond man is the one I hate and loathe the most.  
  
And I do not want to hear him speak. But I cannot hide. It's too late.  
  
"A mistake made by your mother and me."  
  
I shake my head, looking at Schala. Perhaps many eyes in the room grow in unpleasant surprise,  
  
but I don't care. I can only look at Schala, my sister.  
  
And she looks away, I see a bitter tear on her cheek. A tear for the secret that wasn't meant to be  
  
told.  
  
"No!" I hear the boy screech, "you're lying!"  
  
But he knows, I know too. Schala's eyes are burning both of us, because they tell the truth.  
  
One week ago I wouldn't have cared, because I wouldn't have remembered Dalton. But now his  
  
words set my twisted soul on fire.  
  
"No!"  
  
The claws of the unveiling tears me backwards, I fall. I hear Molor screech somewhere inside  
  
of my mind, and he tumbles out of my madly flapping cloak.  
  
'Powers of the world, lend me the power of Wind!' he shouts, but I am the only one who vaguely  
  
hears him.  
  
Above his chanting I think I hear other voices, screaming my name. But I can only fall, fall and fall  
  
trying to escape my new memories.  
  
No! No! I refuse it!  
  
Damn you, Zeal! Damn you for condemning me this blood!  
  
Molor's magic stops our fall, and I hit the ground without any harm. But my soul is twitching,  
  
desperately trying to bend aside for the dagger in my mind.  
  
"Janus!"  
  
"Uncle!?"  
  
I press my gloved hands against my head, a scream of agony and loathing forcing itself out of my  
  
dry throat.  
  
Several hands grab my arms and force me down on the ground, trying to stop me from twisting  
  
back and forth.  
  
My eyes fly open, and I stare up at familiar faces surrounding me. But I can't even remember the  
  
persons' names, or from where I met them.  
  
Only...  
  
Schala stares down at me in shock.  
  
With a roar I tear myself free, the men trying to stop me being thrown aside like leaves.  
  
"Janus, what is it!?" Schala screeches and backs as I reach out for her, scratching the air like an  
  
attacking animal.  
  
Janus... is that my name? Didn't somebody call me Magus?  
  
Who am I?  
  
I don't want to know who I am.  
  
Now I know. I don't want to.  
  
Damn you, Zeal!  
  
My arms fall to my sides, turning numb before Schala's shocked eyes.  
  
The ground burns my knees as I fall, pressing my hands against my head with another scream.  
  
Can I scream? I thought I couldn't... but I can't remember why...  
  
A scream with no words, no meaning but the loathing I feel for myself.  
  
Schala's arms encircle my neck, I feel them through my wrapped cloak. She refuses her own fear  
  
for my madness in order to help.  
  
"Janus, do you hear me?" she shouts, just by my ear, "snap out of it!"  
  
Schala... sister...  
  
My scream falter, turning into gasps for air. I lean heavily against my sister, my weight almost  
  
making her loose her balance. I can't help her to hold my weight, I have no strength...  
  
"Schala..." falls from my cold lips.  
  
Her hand touches the back of my head.  
  
"I'm right here, Janus," she whispers, "right here..."  
  
My head falls backwards, I stare at the sky and gasps for air like a fish out of the water.  
  
"Damn you, Zeal..."  
  
"What?" Schala says, I can feel her frown.  
  
I shake my head, heavily.  
  
"Schala... Dalton..." I harshly whisper, "is Dalton my father?"  
  
Her fingers clench in my hair, pulling it so that it hurts. But she probably doesn't notice it; I hardly  
  
do.  
  
"How did you know that?" she whispers, so hoarsely that I hardly can believe that it's she who  
  
speaks.  
  
Proven and re-proven. The truth is tearing up the whole focus I fought to build up.  
  
Of all the men I have scorned, the one I loathed and hated the most is my own father...  
  
Condemning me this blood...  
  
The queen's children...  
  
"Uncle?"  
  
Exhaustedly I turn my face at Schaliya. She looks at me, our eyes almost at the same level since  
  
I'm sitting on my knees. She seems very worried.  
  
"Did thou suffer another nightmare?" she asks, concerned.  
  
Somehow I slowly nod.  
  
"I had a nightmare, little one..." I say in a low, hoarse voice.  
  
Then I close my eyes, falling aside. Schala is unable to hold me and I heavily hit the ground. But  
  
by then I am no longer aware of what's happening.  
  
Even in the nothingness filled of heavenly oblivion I think I hear Molor silently cry out a desperate  
  
scream of helplessness. Then... nothing.  
  
Nothing, for an eternity.  
  
But suddenly there is something, gently piercing my peace.  
  
It's not much. Only a woman's distant voice.  
  
"I am so sorry, Janus..."  
  
She might want to say more, but something, somebody, seems to hold her back.  
  
I am alone again, in the smoothing darkness. And that is well.  
  
Leave me here. I want to rest.  
  
If I only could...  
  
I turn a little, and my whole being protests. I heavily fall back even though I hardly moved at all.  
  
"Thou had us all worried, my friend," a familiar voice says, relieved.  
  
Perhaps one really should be unable to remember recent events after being unconscious. But it  
  
seems as if my poor mind never gets to rest completely. I'm pretty certain that I woke up only  
  
because I gave up trying to find true peace. Even as I was entrapped in soft serenity, there was a  
  
restlessness. I knew I had to come back.  
  
Damn...  
  
No, I can't even be angry... I am too tired.  
  
"Curse it all..." crawls from my lips.  
  
Frog's voice sighs.  
  
"It surprises me that thou take such news so gravely, never mind their foulness," he says, "I carried  
  
the belief that such matters were unable to harm thee."  
  
My head slowly moves from side to side a couple of times, it's probably almost impossible to  
  
notice the movement.  
  
"There are limits," I mutter, "you have no idea how I hate him."  
  
I try to move a little again, but am still unable to.  
  
I had never been that angry before. Never been in such a deep rage; I was on the brink of loosing it  
  
completely. And my mental exhaustion finally got a grip on me, it seems.  
  
"Even Magus would have been outraged," I grimly continue.  
  
Frog says nothing for a moment. Then he sighs again.  
  
"I never knew Magus well."  
  
I say nothing.  
  
For the first time ever I almost wish to be the Prince of Darkness again. At least he always seemed  
  
to have complete control of what was happening. Even if there were three warriors breaking down his  
  
whole castle in the hunt for him, he could still focus on the single thing he had to do.  
  
My life was much simpler when I only had my vow to kill Lavos, and nothing else really mattered.  
  
It was a life of darkness and bitterness, but at least I always knew what was happening. Never  
  
confused, never unsure about how to react.  
  
But, sadly, not even my other name would have protected me against this shock. Maybe Magus  
  
would have taken it even harder, because he was much more skilled at hating...  
  
I don't know how to handle anything right now...  
  
"Schala fell asleep a couple of hours ago," Frog carefully says, "by then she had been watching thee  
  
for over two days."  
  
"In her condition..." I mutter.  
  
"I carry the belief that I do not have to tell thee that she refused any offer of letting someone else  
  
watch," Frog calmly says.  
  
I sigh deeply.  
  
"She could care for herself now and then."  
  
"Thou art too hard upon thyself and those who care for thee," the knight of the Middle ages grimly  
  
says.  
  
I hear a low yawn. It sounds like Schaliya.  
  
"Hast he awakened?" her sleepy voice mumbles.  
  
"Yes, he hast," Frog kindly says, dropping the grave expression that ruled his voice last time he  
  
spoke.  
  
Not until now have I even opened my eyes. I slowly turn my head as my niece crawls closer and  
  
sits on her knees on the floor by my bed.  
  
We're in my room in the house, the curtain covers the window and makes it rather dusky. Frog and  
  
Schaliya are almost nothing but shadows, but there's enough light to make it possible for me to see  
  
her young face. She's relieved, yet she's still a bit concerned.  
  
Molor is somewhere in the darkness, but I'm too exhausted to be able to feel his exact position.  
  
"Art thee better now, uncle?" she asks.  
  
Good question.  
  
"Partly," I answer.  
  
But I don't even know myself if that's a lie or not. And how great it is, if it's an untrue saying.  
  
"Was it an awful dream?" she wonders.  
  
"Yes, it was."  
  
She's silent for a moment.  
  
"Thou will be fine, uncle," she finally says.  
  
Then she bends forward and places a small kiss on my cheek. Through the tired, roaring anger, I  
  
have to smile.  
  
Little one. Nobody was ever meant to do such a thing.  
  
But would you care even if you knew that, Schaliya?  
  
"If you say so," I say with the shadow of a smile as she straightens up again, "don't worry about me,  
  
little one."  
  
"Thou art a fascinating little lady, Schaliya," Frog smiles and touches her shoulder briefly before  
  
standing up.  
  
He reaches for the curtain and moves it aside a little to let in more light. Seems like it's mid day  
  
out there. I close my eyes and manage to move up my hand to cover them, as the small flow of light  
  
allowed inside blinds me for a moment.  
  
After a couple of seconds I let the hand fall and open my eyes again.  
  
Schaliya gasps and recoils, making Frog spin around. He freezes, staring at me.  
  
"What?" I say, frowning.  
  
"Uncle Janus... thy... thy..." Schaliya stutters.  
  
"Thy eyes...!" Frog says, almost hissing.  
  
Molor's head snaps up from the floor a few feet away, and I feel an explosion of despair flowing  
  
from him.  
  
What the...?  
  
My fingers touch the area around my eyes, confused.  
  
There's a sound of metal against metal.  
  
"Here, use it as a mirror..." Frog grimly says, holding up the Masamune.  
  
Somehow I manage to sit up and carefully grab the clean blade, directing its angle so that I can see  
  
my own face in it.  
  
My eyes should be cold, the iris glowing in red. But there's nothing red, not even anything white.  
  
The eyes reflected in the blade are yellowish and thin, just like...  
  
I push the sword aside and look at Molor. He turns away, hissing bitterly.  
  
'It's so...' he whispers.  
  
My right hand moves by itself, pulling the glove off my left hand.  
  
Finally I discover the source of the infernal itching.  
  
Scales are trying to break through my skin, just a few so far, but they are there and I know that  
  
there will be more.  
  
I couldn't believe that it was possible. But now I must face yet another horrifying truth.  
  
"What is that, uncle?" Schaliya squeaks.  
  
I can't look at neither her nor Frog or Molor, only stare at my own hand.  
  
"It's Charash," I hiss, "he's turning me into a dragon." 


	9. Dragons will be dragons

1 ~*~Chapter 9 The black wind blows for four~*~  
  
'Nothing,' Molor hisses, 'I have done all possible. Just a matter of time, and your strength.'  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"But there must...!" almost everyone exclaims.  
  
Molor shakes his head.  
  
"Why would he do that?" Schala growls, "why you?"  
  
Schaliya is hanging on to my arm, staring at the cracking skin on my hands. I put the gloves back  
  
on to save her and everyone else the sight.  
  
The itch is getting worse, I guess it's because my growing despair tears down my forces of defense  
  
even faster. I can't stop this transformation, I don't know how to fight it. As if I hadn't enough on my  
  
mind.  
  
If only those blasted dreams wouldn't disrupt me too! I can't grieve being Dalton's son, I should be  
  
able to fight that realization back and turning it into just another past fact of my life. I should be able  
  
to think that it doesn't matter, I am Janus, brother of Schala and nothing else. Nothing else should  
  
matter. But surely I would have found it hard even if I hadn't Charash and his curse hovering over me  
  
too. And now, as the two great problems I have to face clash, I can hardly handle any of them.  
  
Who am I trying to fool?  
  
I can't handle them! I have to face that fact, no matter how much I detest my failing.  
  
The man I have hated most is my father and a gigantic lizard is trying to turn me into one of his  
  
kind. It's too much, even for me. If there only was one of them, I probably would be able to work it  
  
out without greater troubles. At least I try to tell myself that.  
  
Weakling, Magus snorts.  
  
But he sounds distant and tired.  
  
Even he is weakened. That clearly shows that I am fading, slowly but steadily.  
  
And what will happen when the transformation really starts? My eyes, this itch and the few scales  
  
are just a small taste of what will come. Even now the itch is growing; it's starting to burn slightly. I  
  
have a feeling that the spell doesn't work very pleasantly.  
  
And then?  
  
I am a human, not a dragon. What does Charash hope to gain by this? If he looked at my soul,  
  
choosing me as someone to curse, then he must have seen that I am no one to just accept something  
  
like that. Why would he like a human mind in the body of a dragon?  
  
My teeth clench as I realize what I am thinking.  
  
Molor groans, with that telling me that my thought is horrifyingly true.  
  
Damn!  
  
"Uncle?" Schaliya says, and there's fear in her voice.  
  
It's as if she can feel my hopeless rage, my despair.  
  
I shake my head again, balling my hands into fists.  
  
Such an ironic twist of life, that I might suffer the same fate as my own mother... living on without  
  
my soul, a puppet of something much more powerful.  
  
I can't allow that! I have to fight him back, I am the most powerful wizard in the history of magic!  
  
But even as my boiling mind is revolting, some part of me points out that I don't know how to  
  
struggle against this power. It's like trying to grab water, it slips away. This curse is not in the level of  
  
human magic, and I can't fight it. I can only resist as long as possible.  
  
But when I can't fight it back anymore?  
  
I'm not going to be a slave, I have lived like that every night for several years! I'm not going to end up like that!  
  
My transformed eyes turn to Schaliya, and I frown as I look at her face. It's marked with terror, she's scared. Fear what is happening to me. Little one...  
  
When I can't fight anymore, if Charash manage to finish his work...  
  
Queen Zeal, and her actions.  
  
I look away, my frown growing deeper.  
  
I don't know if Zeal ever really cared. But I know that Schala thought that she did, and I'm tempted to believe what my sister says.  
  
Little one...  
  
I can't risk to harm her.  
  
"It's going to be fine," I mutter, touching Schaliya's small palm with my gloved thumb as she fumbles for my hand.  
  
"Uncle..." she whispers, leaning at me.  
  
I look at her again, clenching my teeth even more.  
  
"Uncle Janus," she says with a slightly shivering voice, "thou art afraid..."  
  
Her conclusion startles me, and my frown becomes as deep as it ever can get.  
  
Child.  
  
I'd like to call it despair and rage, but...  
  
That child is right.  
  
I hate to admit it... but I am afraid. I have been the Pawn of the Mystics, and my feelings of disgust due to that cannot be described. I fear to be a mindless slave in reality too. I fear to be...  
  
"I'm just thinking about something that happened to your grandmother," I tell my niece in a low voice.  
  
I'm not looking up, but I can feel the blood leaving the faces of my assembled allies.  
  
"Was she turned into a dragon too?" Schaliya whispers.  
  
"No," I mutter, "but something similar."  
  
"'Tis scaring me, uncle..."  
  
I place my hand at the back of her head, trying to calm her.  
  
"Look, if anything should happen... your parents and our friends are heroes. They will do anything possible to help."  
  
She's leaning at me and can't see me look up at Frog. He startles and stares at me as he realizes what I'm trying to tell him. He shakes his head, furiously. As I frown again he does the same movement, even more resolute.  
  
You don't seem to understand this situation, pest.  
  
'Janus, you can't...' Schala weakly whispers in my mind.  
  
'Do you think I want to live like queen Zeal did?' I tell her and everyone else except Schaliya, 'would you perhaps like to fight two dragons instead of one?'  
  
'Janus!'  
  
'No. If I loose this battle, you'll have to take care of what's left of me before it's too late. None of us want Charash to gain even better odds, do I make myself clear?'  
  
Frog spins around and stares out of the window, his fists shaking. Crono reaches out a hand for his shoulder, but stops and lets the arm fall. Helpless.  
  
'Don't be so pathetically sentimental,' I coldly say, 'once there was no problem about that thought, and we all know it.'  
  
The knight looks around, and his bulb eyes are thin with deep anger.  
  
'Thou art a fool, Janus,' he snarls in an angry way of thinking, 'dost thee truly believe that I once again can be the warrior devoted to slain thee?'  
  
His hand clench around the hilt of the Masamune.  
  
'What is it that thee cannot understand?' he hisses, 'one canst not murder a comrade like that!'  
  
'If I loose to Charash I will be dead anyway,' I snap, 'and you are the only one who can give my body a quick end.'  
  
The air seem to freeze for a moment as Frog takes a deep breath. Everyone keeps from using their lungs as the two of us coldly watch each other.  
  
'I refuse my already past vow to kill the warlock known as Magus,' Frog finally growls, 'and I curse the day I looked upon this sword and felt proud of holding it. This sacred blade is no longer a blessing to me.'  
  
My eyebrows twitch and in the corner of my eye I notice that Marle's jaw is the first to drop. Since me and Schala opened the door to telepathy, Frog's thoughts are to be heard as long as he's aiming them so directly at me even though he doesn't really know the magic.  
  
Frog refusing the Masamune? Lavos should have left in peace before that happened...  
  
'I am a knight of Guardia,' the amphibian coldly continues, 'not an executioner.'  
  
'You only take pride in fair battle. I know, pest,' I say, just as cold, 'you said that before you killed my blasted father.'  
  
Frog watches me, clenching and unclenching his fists. It seems as if he doesn't know any reply to that, unsure if I said it with antagonism or twisted gratefulness. I don't know either, I'm just angry.  
  
"Can the curse perhaps be mended if we kill Charash?" Lucca asks, obviously desperate to stop the silent argument.  
  
I turn to Molor.  
  
'Possible,' he slowly says, but his voice gives away that he highly doubts that it can be done in time.  
  
Still, it is a hope. Just what I really needed.  
  
"He says that it would work," I report, without turning my gaze from my kindred spirit.  
  
"Then 'tis what we shall do," Frog grimly says.  
  
"Let's just cross our fingers about that he'll show his ugly face around here before our warlock starts growing wings," Marle mutters.  
  
I hope that too. Very much, even.  
  
Schala moves up beside me by the kitchen table.  
  
"Look," she says, carefully, "I know this is an awful time, but I would really like to know how you found out about Dalton."  
  
I shake my head, resolutely watching the table.  
  
"Janus, please."  
  
There's a sad, tired despair in her voice. Slowly I look up at her.  
  
"I'm your sister," she says, slowly and bitter, "why do you keep turning away from me even now?"  
  
"Schala..."  
  
I can meet her gaze for a few moments. Then I give up.  
  
If I face this risk to die, what do I have left to hide? Perhaps she is right; I am turning away even though I know I need to reach out for her. I wanted to protect her, all of them, I didn't think that it was any of their business. I still don't think that it is, but the despair in Schala's voice, the hopelessness of not knowing what's happening to me... it's as painful as the fear in her eyes that I dreamt about.  
  
Maybe she'll suffer more of knowing. But right now she doesn't care about that possibility.  
  
"I have... been dreaming about what could have happened to me, and all of us, if things had been different," I mutter, "the last thing that happened was that we were in the Earthbound village when Dalton came to get you, Schala. When I tried to stop him he managed to bring me off balance."  
  
"Different?" Lucca says, uneasy.  
  
I shake my head again.  
  
"A lot different."  
  
For a moment I hesitate. Then I make my decision, resolutely.  
  
"But that's off limits, and it's for your own good."  
  
"Janus, I..." Schala begins.  
  
Molor's head suddenly snaps up from the floor, with a growling hiss. He stares out of the window, and as one being we humans can't help turning to look too even though we surely share a bad feeling about it.  
  
There's nothing out there, just the few people walking around outside.  
  
'What?' I ask him.  
  
'Marle's wish come true,' he hisses, 'I do wish you good luck, friend.'  
  
"He's coming?!" I snarl, aloud.  
  
Without a word Molor performs a magical movement of a kind I have never seen before. He dives at my shadow on the floor and disappears into it. And his presence is gone.  
  
So that's how he did it that first day...  
  
I stand up, holding Schaliya. She holds on to my shoulders, hiding her small face against my chest in fear.  
  
"Take her," I mutter and give my niece to Schala.  
  
Then I reach for my cloak, as Lucca, Marle, Crono and Cered hurry out of the kitchen to fetch their weapons.  
  
"Will you survive a confrontation?" Schala sharply asks.  
  
"I don't know," I growl and throw a cold glance at Frog.  
  
He hasn't unsheathed the Masamune, only holds his hand on the hilt and refuses to meet my gaze.  
  
"You'll hurry out into the forest with Schaliya, do you understand?" I tell my sister, turning away from the knight.  
  
She hesitates for a moment, but looks down at her terrified daughter and nods.  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Good," I say.  
  
The others are returning, now equipped. Just in time for the familiar roar to tear the air apart. Outside of the house the few people minding their own business scream and run for cover as the sun is hidden behind something more massive than a cloud.  
  
"Great, you did say that he was big, but..." Lucca hisses.  
  
"We could beat Lavos, we can take out a king-size chameleon too!" Marle resolutely says, making  
  
Crono grin.  
  
He drops a kind comment about her fighting spirit and then asks how we should fight Charash.  
  
"I doubt that he'll land," I grimly say, "but if he comes at a lower level our knight here should be  
  
able to scratch him a little with the big knife he's got. At least according to Flea the scales of a dragon  
  
are the only thing that's resistant to magic."  
  
"Are you saying that we're going into battle only lead by advices taken from Flea!?" Marle  
  
says, disbelieving.  
  
"It's all we've got," I shortly say and resolutely head for the door as a great flame licks a halfway  
  
rebuilt house on the other side of the village.  
  
"Uncle!"  
  
I stop and turn around, looking at Schaliya's pale face.  
  
"Please do not die, uncle..." she whispers.  
  
"I'll do my best not to," I say and force my grim face to loosen a little in order to calm her down.  
  
She looks around the room.  
  
"Thee must not die either, father," she mumbles, "not any one of thee..."  
  
The last thing is aimed at the other warriors.  
  
"Nah, we've faced worse than this, haven't we, gang?" Lucca says, trying to help off the child's  
  
terror.  
  
"Fear not, Schaliya," Cered says, somehow managing to smile, "we shall be together tomorrow as  
  
well, all of us."  
  
"Good luck," Schala gravely says and kiss his cheek.  
  
"Stay safe, love," he mutters before turning at the door.  
  
I walk towards the door…  
  
Dead, death, perished…  
  
I stop walking, my hands clenching around the scythe. I hear Schala take in a sharp breath.  
  
Gone, forgotten, destroyed, killed…  
  
"What is that?!" Schaliya squeaks.  
  
Can she hear it too? I look around, clenching my teeth.  
  
"It's called the black wind," I mutter.  
  
You shall soon face four dead…  
  
It whispers to my mind, but it was long ago that it spoke so loudly… I don't know what it is, but it has always warned me when somebody is going to die.  
  
My gaze run over my pale allies.  
  
Not him, not her, not her, not him…  
  
None of them. I almost relax.  
  
"It's not you, Janus…" Schala mumbles, a lot more relieved.  
  
"Not you either," I say, frowning, "none of us…"  
  
How peculiar…?  
  
"Still," I grimly say and look around again, "just because the black wind doesn't promise any of us death it's no guarantee if we get lightheaded."  
  
"Roger," Lucca grimly says.  
  
The black wind slowly fades away again, and I let out a short breath as it leaves. It's not pleasant to listen to.  
  
Well then.  
  
I push the door open, holding my scythe in both hands. I don't know if the dragon's presence could make the dark heart stronger, but I have to take that risk. I must do  
  
something. And even though I'm not even sure about my weapon's effectiveness I never go into  
  
battle unequipped.  
  
Except in my dreamed world, of course, which is the cause of many torments.  
  
Dalton's son...  
  
I can't let that fact bring me off balance again! It's a mere fact, what does it matter?! What did I  
  
even care about my father?  
  
It was simple to ignore it when I didn't know.  
  
Fight it! It's irrelevant!  
  
I'm Dalton's son, blast it!  
  
It can't be mended, so why bother about it?  
  
How I hate him...  
  
This isn't going to go too well, I conclude while gritting my teeth.  
  
I hear Crono carefully tell Frog to get a grip of himself.  
  
"Curse it all..." the knight growls and finally gets his weapon out of its sheath.  
  
The giant shadow turns around and flies back at the center of the village. By now everyone else  
  
have fled into the forest.  
  
He stops and looks down at us, smirking.  
  
Looks down at me.  
  
"Well, well," he says, "there you are again."  
  
I force myself not to turn my eyes away.  
  
"Leave our land or fight us, foul creature!" Cered calls out.  
  
Charash laughs, the sound resembles to rocks tumbling down a mountain.  
  
"You fight me, you feeble creatures?"  
  
He turns back at me, and my grip of the scythe tightens.  
  
"I have no idea how you manage to fight my blessing back or why you'd like to do that, human  
  
dragon," he says, and there's some sort of fascination in his voice, "but that only proves your power,  
  
of course."  
  
"What do you mean by human dragon?" I call up to him, frowning, "and I am not amused with  
  
being transformed."  
  
"Your strength and will to fight it back will only pain you," he says with a roll of his eyes, "you  
  
should be grateful instead."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
With a powerful flap of his wings Charash manage to create such a forceful wind that not even I,  
  
nor my allies can fight it. My back hits the wall of a house, and through the mist of pain I hear the  
  
others scream as they also are thrown backwards.  
  
As I look up I stare into an enormous yellowish eye, watching me from only a few feet's distance.  
  
The mind of the dragon reaches out for mine, and I hardly manage to put up another wall to stop him.  
  
"You have the soul of a dragon," he explains with a smirk, "but it seems as if we will have to work a  
  
little on you."  
  
A scream explodes in my chest but cannot penetrate my throat, becoming stuck halfway through  
  
simply because the inside of my neck is completely dry as I stare at Charash, hearing his words.  
  
"I guess that we will have to work a little on you, Magus."  
  
"Why do you call me that?! My name is Janus! It's Janus, Janus, Janus...!"  
  
For a moment as I face that enormous creature and his voice still rings inside of my head  
  
I am that terrified little boy again, lost and helpless in the clutches of Ozzie.  
  
"You are a dragon," Charash says, reaching out for the dark heart in my soul in order to  
  
strengthen it.  
  
"Your name is from now on Magus, boy."  
  
Leave me alone!  
  
"Janus!"  
  
"Uncle, look out!"  
  
Schala and Schaliya's voices cut through my paralyzed mind and with a roar I throw  
  
Charash out of it, scrambling to my feet. The surprise is a grave mistake of his.  
  
"Leave this world, foul parasite!"  
  
Frog leaps forward, raising the Masamune. Charash moves one second too late, and the  
  
sacred blade cuts up a deep wound on his right side, just behind his wing.  
  
Well, for a human or something in similar size it would have been a deep cut. For the  
  
dragon it's only a small scratch, and even the Masamune show signs of having problems of  
  
penetrating the hard yet leathery scales and the stiff flesh.  
  
"Why you little insect!" Charash snarls and turns his head at Frog, his nostrils being lit up  
  
from the inside.  
  
The knight jumps backwards, avoiding the flames.  
  
I hear Crono chant a prayer to the world's power of Lightning, and his bolts almost hit the  
  
weakly bleeding wound. But Charash manages to move away in time; the magic bounces on  
  
his scales and disappears into the ground. I try to chant, but once more the dragon uses his  
  
wings to more than flying.  
  
"And what do we have here?" Charash snarls, his voice to be heard even above the roaring  
  
wind as I fight to keep from being thrown backwards again.  
  
Through the dancing dust I see an enormous paw consisting mostly of three claws hit the  
  
ground and then rise up again, holding a twisting body.  
  
Marle!  
  
Crono's strangely silent scream pierce the commotion.  
  
'What, Marle?!' runs through my already rather occupied yarn of thoughts.  
  
"Let me go, you big ugly...!" she screeches, desperately trying to break free.  
  
"Release her!" Frog, Lucca, Cered and Schala shouts almost simultaneously.  
  
Then two other voices scream, one of them which just shouted. And those voices in terror  
  
brings me completely off balance.  
  
Charash other front claws encircle Schala, and she's still holding Schaliya.  
  
"No!"  
  
My hands begin to paint runes, my mouth already chanting the spell of Dark Matter as I  
  
realize that I'll risk the lives of the ones I want to save. And before I am able to refocus for a  
  
lightning spell Charash have brought himself high above the ground, out of my reach.  
  
"Schala! Schaliya!!" Cered screams in despairing rage, showing my feelings as well.  
  
With a snort like a tornado Charash sends a vast stream of flames downwards.  
  
"Powers of the world, I bid of thee to lend me the power of Water!" Frog rabbles.  
  
A gigantic bubble forms around me as he hurriedly chants, stopping the fire.  
  
As the flames disappear and the several bubbles Frog conjured to protect himself and his  
  
friends pop, Charash is gone from the sky.  
  
The air shivers with another roar, but this one leaves my lips.  
  
Every curse I have ever learnt, in both modern language and old Zealan attacks my idiotic  
  
mistake.  
  
Dark Matter? What was I thinking?! A lightning bolt was the only thing that possibly  
  
could penetrate his wound even more!  
  
"Curse it all!" I finally end my very long list of words not really meant to  
  
be heard by anyone around and below my age.  
  
"Calm down, you idiots!" Lucca sharply snarls, "we haven't got time for that!"  
  
I'm too outraged to even mind what she called me, Cered and Crono.  
  
"Lucca speaketh the truth!" Frog harshly says and grabs the younger man's arm to stop him  
  
from hitting the ground with his fists, "art thee not skilled warriors? Then assemble thy  
  
force and focus on our quest instead of being such fools!"  
  
Crono screams out his question of why the dragon took Marle.  
  
"And Schala and...!" Cered growls, so angry that he can't even speak his daughter's name.  
  
"Molor!"  
  
I spin around. My kindred spirit nervously crawls together under my sharp gaze, once  
  
again out in the sun.  
  
Now you fancy showing yourself, coward?!  
  
"Don't take it out on him," Lucca coldly says, "and I'll only say this one more time;  
  
calm down!"  
  
But why, Lucca?! Crono scream in rage, why did he take Marle?  
  
The inventor plays with her glasses, irritated frowning at Crono.  
  
"If you'll just cool your hot head down and turn back into the winning warrior we all know  
  
and love we have a much greater chance of both finding and killing the chameleon before  
  
Marle and Schala rip his head off by themselves," she says, "your acting is completely  
  
illogical."  
  
"I'm not in the mood for being logical, inventor!" I snap at her.  
  
"'Tis not a moment suitable for own argues," Frog sharply points out.  
  
Lucca waves furiously with both her arms, very uncharacteristically.  
  
"Shut up! All of you!" she shouts, taking all of us aback with her surprising force of voice  
  
and anger.  
  
As we look at her, sharing a frown, she takes her chance to bring her upper hand even  
  
further.  
  
"I have a theory, guys," she says before anyone of us have time to recover, "he took Marle  
  
and Schala. I think that Schaliya just happened to get caught too, since our married woman  
  
carried her. My idea is that he somehow knew that the ladies are princesses."  
  
Silence.  
  
"But how is that possible?" Cered finally says, disbelieving.  
  
'A bride of royal blood,' Molor miserably says.  
  
I turn around.  
  
"What?"  
  
'The dragons don't really belong in this world,' my kindred spirit grimly tells me, 'he'll  
  
choose one of the women and kill the others.'  
  
"Choose one?" I repeat, a coldness starting to fill my chest.  
  
I'm far too upset to be able to talk to him silently. I guess the others are staring at both of us by  
  
now.  
  
'In order for the dragons to freely come to this world a child of the king must be born here,' Molor  
  
gravely continues, 'he has the power to transform the body and then influence the soul of a human if  
  
he or she fulfills a few requirements. Strength of mind is vital.'  
  
"Why princesses?" I sharply ask.  
  
Molor makes a grimace of disgust.  
  
'It's no problem for him to find out. I think that he's just self- centered. And the reason for picking  
  
you as someone to curse...'  
  
He hesitates for a moment, but then angrily shakes his head.  
  
'It's nothing but a stupid game. You have the soul of a dragon.'  
  
"What does that mean?" I ask, frustrated.  
  
'Your soul resembles that of a dragon's,' he mutters, 'but you also have the strength to fight it back for a  
  
while.'  
  
"What's he saying, brother?" Cered asks, sharply.  
  
"He says that Marle or Schala can be eaten or become the next dragon queen," I growl, "we haven't  
  
got time for this! He has no use of Schaliya!"  
  
"But how canst we find him now?" Frog points out.  
  
For a moment I feel a cut of hopelessness, but then my mind catches up with something. I reach up  
  
and rip off a hair from my head, holding it between my thumb and pointing finger as I chant a spell of  
  
connection.  
  
The brooch I gave that stupid princess Lashey or whatever her name was is no longer in the royal  
  
palace, just as I suspected.  
  
So there is some use of that silly girl after all...  
  
"He's taken the emperor's daughter too," I report, and twist the hair around my gloved pointing  
  
finger, "she's in the mountains to the northeast of here."  
  
"Then let us hurry!" Cered growls, "I for one hath been there, thee canst use my memory to teleport  
  
us!"  
  
I grimly nod and reach out my mind for his...  
  
"Now just a darn minute!" Lucca calls out.  
  
I could break her little...  
  
"What?" I snarl, and I'm not the only one.  
  
Neither Cered nor Crono are happy with the delay. Frog says nothing, and Lucca resolutely places  
  
her hands against her hips.  
  
"Before I'm going anywhere I'd like to know something," she sharply says and turns to Molor, "how  
  
come the long reptile there knows so much about Charash?"  
  
Well he's...  
  
I have no idea.  
  
Frowning I turn to Molor, and I realize that I never questioned his knowledge of the dark heart and  
  
Charash's doings.  
  
He hangs his head, somehow tiredly and bitter.  
  
'Please,' he mutters, 'for this once just trust me.'  
  
'No, Molor,' I sharply say, 'you'll have to tell me now.'  
  
'I can't do it!'  
  
Before I have time to stop him he dives into my shadow again, and there I cannot reach for him.  
  
"Come back here at once, Molor!" I shout, but he stays hidden.  
  
Frustrated I shake my head.  
  
"He's been acting strange ever since Charash showed up," I growl, "but we can't care about that  
  
now, understand?"  
  
"I don't like this at all, but do your stuff," Lucca sighs.  
  
Cered, Crono and Frog grimly nods. Once more I reach out my mind for my brother in law and  
  
begin to chant the required spell, absentmindedly returning the scythe to my cloak. 


	10. If you saw this coming, I need to work h...

1 ~*~Chapter 10 Unexpected help~*~  
  
As the flashing light disappears I find myself on a wide ledge on a mountain. The ground is quite  
  
far down, but as I look up I see that the top of the stony hill is even further away. I look at the land to  
  
the west and south. To the northwest is only ocean, and the cliffs hide all other directions. But now as  
  
I'm here and see the land around, I realize which mountain this is. Far below the ledge I and my allies  
  
stand on are the caves that one day will connect my and the Mystics' lair with the main land.  
  
All this irony is getting silly.  
  
"I was no higher than this," Cered grimly says and looks at the cliffs ahead, "did this help us?"  
  
"Much better than walking," I mutter as I search for the brooch.  
  
There.  
  
Beyond those cliffs, of course.  
  
"I'll bring us there," I say and hold up my cloak.  
  
Before anyone of them have time to react I have swept them into the cloth, surpassing them to a  
  
safe corner of my mind.  
  
Well, that's not exactly what's happening to them, but it's the only suitable explanation.  
  
"Ah, back here again," I hear Frog's voice sigh somewhere deep inside of my head, "how lovely."  
  
"What the heck is this?" Lucca asks, surprised.  
  
"This," the knight says and clears his throat, "is Janus' mind."  
  
I close the small room so that I won't have to hear the other's comments and the continued  
  
conversation. They'll only irritate me now.  
  
Grimly I focus on the cliffs. The winds up here are rather strong, and wind spells should wisely not  
  
be used too close to something to ram into.  
  
I jump up on a lower, thin ledge and continue upwards, bit by bit.  
  
Don't worry, Schaliya, I won't let anything happen, neither to you nor your mother.  
  
And I guess I'll have to protect Marle too, while I'm at it.  
  
But the emperor's daughter can get barbequed for all that I care. Stupid girl...  
  
Dalton's...  
  
For heaven's sake, not now! I'm not unoccupied enough for being so idiotically concerned  
  
about something I can't do anything about!  
  
But whatever I'm trying to tell myself, I can't push the torturing fact aside.  
  
Stop this minute!  
  
I halt my jumping and stand still on a small ledge for a moment, trying to get my breathing normal  
  
and calm down.  
  
This is ridiculous. I never had any need of a father, and I never cared. What does relatives mean if  
  
you reject them and they reject you? What did family ever mean to me anyhow, except for Schala?  
  
I don't care about Dalton being my father!  
  
It seems to work. At least for the time being.  
  
Good.  
  
I start working on getting above the cliffs again. Soon I reach the top and face a cracked landscape,  
  
a pretty wide passage between two other sets of mountain walls. The connection to the brooch tells  
  
me that I should continue ahead, so I hurry into the open corridor.  
  
'Schala, can you hear me?' I call out with my thoughts as I run.  
  
No reply. Charash's presence might be blocking my telepathic voice; such calls are very fragile.  
  
I reach the end of the corridor. There's nothing except an abyss below me, filled with clouds. The  
  
harsh winds are chilly up here, playing with my hair and cloak.  
  
To the right...  
  
There's a cracked ledge going along the right cliff, but it's about eleven feet below my position and  
  
very thin.  
  
I shrug my shoulders and jump.  
  
My fingers catch the ledge as I fall past it, and an intense pain goes through both my arms. Feels as  
  
if they're almost torn off...  
  
Snarling a short curse I force myself upwards, place my knees on the ledge and then stand up  
  
slowly. It's getting wider ahead, but for the moment I have to move carefully with my back against  
  
the stonewall.  
  
My hands and arms still burn after the violent performance a few moments ago. Burn from the  
  
inside, scratching my skin from within.  
  
No...  
  
You shall face four deaths…  
  
I stop and reach out my left arm so that I can look at it.  
  
Scales, tearing up my skin as they break through it. Blood falls down into the pure clouds below as  
  
I am frozen for a moment in the shock and rapidly growing pain.  
  
Not now! We're so close to Charash!  
  
With a groan of agony I desperately look around, seeing a much wider ledge far ahead. I'll fall  
  
down if I stay here...  
  
The ledge is surely twenty yards away, but I have to take that risk. I leap, grab a thin mountain  
  
spruce growing out of the cliff and swing on. The weak tree falls behind me, into the cloud filled  
  
nothingness.  
  
I land on the ledge and my blood paints the rock as my gloved palms hit it. The scales are still not  
  
working at full force, but each one of them is a needle penetrating my flesh. More and more are  
  
coming for every second, the pain blooming without ever drawing back the least. It only grows and  
  
rise as...  
  
My screech cuts through my own ears; it doesn't sound like my voice.  
  
As my mind wriggles to get out of the hardening grip of the dark heart, the room that I surpassed  
  
my allies to have to open. I think they stumble out of my cloak, but that feeling is just a weak shadow  
  
beside the flashing pain.  
  
Vaguely I hear someone scream my name, followed by desperate chanting. Healing stars shower  
  
over me, only for a moment halting the torture. I fall over on my back, pressing my hands against my  
  
head.  
  
Stop!  
  
You are a dragon. Succumb to it.  
  
No!  
  
Dragon!  
  
"I'm... a human!" I screech, desperately trying to fight back the curse growing inside of me, my mind  
  
wrestling the intruding lies.  
  
"My name is Janus!"  
  
You are a dragon.  
  
"Magus!"  
  
My spine feels as if it's trying to rip itself into pieces, the scales growing more rapidly as the agony  
  
smashes my every thought and thereby chances of defense. The fingertips of the gloves break; cut  
  
through by growing claws that used to be my nails.  
  
"Frog!" I roar, my voice sounding growling and much deeper than it should be.  
  
You are a dragon!  
  
No... human... man... dragon... I am...  
  
Through the yellowish and red fog of pure pain I see the knight take a step backwards in horror. A  
  
long shadow that only can be Molor rise up from nowhere and shakes its head, bitterly hissing.  
  
"There must be a way to stop and reverse it...!" Lucca's voice screech.  
  
Molor shakes his head again.  
  
It's too late.  
  
My back tries to turn over itself as two knives carve their way through my muscles on either side of  
  
my spine; wings. My roar shake the surroundings.  
  
"Frog, end it!"  
  
"I canst not slain thee!" he shouts, despairing.  
  
I rock back and forth on the ground like a madman, unable to give any reply as my body is being  
  
torn apart by red-hot hooks.  
  
All I can wish for now is a quick end, will you deny me that?! Frog!  
  
The screech leaving my lips has not a grain of my voice left.  
  
Above the roaring agony and the screeches I hear the sound of metal against metal.  
  
"Hold him," Frog's voice whispers, "I do not wish to make a mistake."  
  
Is there a sob coming from his lips, and is it even being shared by Crono and Cered as they grab  
  
my burning arms and force them down on the cold, harsh ground?  
  
"Janus, you..." Lucca sobs, her hands grabbing my twitching shoulders from behind, helping the men  
  
to keep me still.  
  
Stop being sentimental, you idiots!  
  
Molor hisses in despair and pain as he wraps the last feet of his tail around my legs, his weight and  
  
the other's strength making it impossible for me to move at all.  
  
The sun reflects in the Masamune's blade as Frog takes its hilt in both hands and points it  
  
downwards at my desperately twisting neck.  
  
"Fare thee well, my friend..." the knight whispers and looks away for a second before nailing his  
  
eyes on my throat.  
  
He raises the sword, ready to use his strength at full force to end my suffering quickly.  
  
The sun's reflection stings my eyes.  
  
End it, Frog!  
  
He freezes for half a second before grudgingly flexing his muscles.  
  
"No."  
  
Everything seem to become crystallized as the short word is spoken. A woman's voice, which I  
  
recognize. But I don't know from where I know it.  
  
Nothing and nobody moves, the torture tearing up my very being is caught in nothing but a small  
  
itch. Frog looks down at me with pain in his eyes, but he's unable to fulfill the source of his torments.  
  
Lucca is looking away, a tear frozen on her cheek. Crono's lips have drawn back from his forcefully  
  
clenched teeth in disgust, his eyes nailed onto the ground. The eyes of my brother in law are closed,  
  
but the sun glisten in a tear of despondency in one of them. Molor is staring at me, his black face a  
  
mask of anguish.  
  
"No," the woman repeats, "you mustn't do it."  
  
A wave of soft light carefully embrace the whole ledge, with care moving my allies away from me.  
  
They seem surprised, but are unable to move by themselves.  
  
The light grows, I close my eyes.  
  
The cold ground under me disappears, I'm not sure if I'm floating in thin air or if I'm lying on  
  
something else.  
  
There's a distant sound, a soft, repeated beating. It's my heart. But behind it is another beating, of  
  
the parasite in my soul. The dark heart beats with my heart.  
  
A cool, smoothing hand touches my scorching cheek. But I don't open my eyes.  
  
"Janus..."  
  
I have heard that voice before... when I was unconscious after my outburst. But I have heard it  
  
earlier too, somewhere.  
  
I do not open my eyes.  
  
"My poor Janus..."  
  
She sighs, touching my forehead with her thumb. The agony moves away, seemingly fearing her  
  
touch. But it's still there, waiting for any chance to return and finish it's work.  
  
"I know that it hurts," she says in a low, smoothing voice, "but you are stronger than the pain, I know  
  
you are."  
  
Only a weak groan leaves my lips as I try to ask her who she is.  
  
Her hand caress my cheek, kindly forcing the pain even further backwards.  
  
You are a dra...  
  
"No," she sharply says, cutting off the dark heart's flow of unwelcome information, "you are a  
  
human, Janus. You were brought up by monsters and the dragon might say that you have a soul  
  
resembling to his, but you are a human and nothing else. I know that better than anyone."  
  
I finally open my eyes and look up into a calm face, encircled by thick, blue hair. The eyes  
  
watching me are like green gems; the eyes that Schala has inherited.  
  
"Mother."  
  
It's nothing but an exhausted conclusion. I am tired...  
  
She looks back down at me with sadness.  
  
"I won't allow Charash to do the same to you as Lavos did to me, I promise," she says.  
  
Through the confusion of seeing queen Zeal, only one thought makes it through.  
  
"Dalton..." I mutter.  
  
She shakes her head with another sigh.  
  
"I am sorry that you had to find out, and I can't ask you to forgive me my mistake. But I beg of you  
  
to see to the fact that Lavos perhaps never would have been defeated if you hadn't been there to help. Dalton  
  
unrightfully scorned you as a freak, and I should truly have chosen a better father for you. The sins  
  
are mine and nothing that should weigh on your shoulders."  
  
She pushes away a few threads of my hair from my face and then carefully close my eyes again by  
  
simply touching my eyelids with her fingertips.  
  
"Everything will be fine, Janus. Don't worry."  
  
When she speaks again it's not aimed at me, but to someone who's there with her.  
  
"What do you think?" she asks.  
  
"Well," a man's voice say, slightly doubtful, "we can't guarantee anything..."  
  
It is a man's voice, yet there's something in it that points at a difference. And I know that I have  
  
heard him speak somewhere before...  
  
"When could we ever guarantee anything?" another voice snorts with a grin.  
  
It's a powerful voice, and I recognize that one too.  
  
"It's simply a theory," the first one concernedly says, "it's not like he's the king of Dragons..."  
  
"If the king is the only one who can mend it, then what's the problem?" the stronger voice tiredly  
  
says, "we've already been through this conversation at least three times. Let him at least try, for  
  
goodness' sake!"  
  
"Will both of you quit talking above my head if I'm your leader?" a third familiar voice snorts.  
  
That one really startles something inside of me, but I can by no means remember. And somehow I  
  
can't open my eyes either. It's as if I'm completely drained of strength. I can only listen.  
  
"Gentlemen, please!" mother sighs.  
  
"'Gentlemen'?" the third voice smiles, coming closer, "ah, humans... now let's see here."  
  
Another hand touches my forehead. It feels... peculiar.  
  
"Well, apart from a few mere technical facts," the voice says and removes the hand again, "that I'm  
  
not the king of Dragons and that I'm dead or not even born, this should do the trick."  
  
Two hands weigh down of my chest, forcing air out of my lungs. I gasp for air in surprise, while  
  
the voice speaks again.  
  
"I demand that this curse will be lifted immediately!" he snarls, with impressing authority.  
  
My heart beats with the dark heart. The dark heart beats with my heart.  
  
The dark heart hesitates. It slows down. The simulated beating of our hearts becomes irregular.  
  
It stops beating.  
  
"Out!"  
  
The hands clench. Into my chest.  
  
Without any pain the owner of the familiar voice rips the dark heart out of my soul and body. It  
  
screeches in rage, a growling scream that suddenly is cut. And with it, the held back wave of agony  
  
melts down into nothingness.  
  
"There," the last voice says, triumphantly.  
  
"Ha!" the powerful one grins, "you owe me twenty gold pieces!"  
  
The doubting voice sighs, but it's with a relieved smile.  
  
Mother's arms carefully lift me by the knees and shoulders, carrying me as if I don't weigh  
  
anything at all.  
  
"We'll see you later, Janus," she kindly says, "right now you have to hurry on to face Charash  
  
again."  
  
I'm lying on the chilly, hard ground again, and mother disappears.  
  
I open my eyes.  
  
The Masamune hits the ground a couple of feet from my head.  
  
"Curse thee, Janus!" Frog gasps, breathing hard.  
  
'Friend!'  
  
"Janus!"  
  
"Brother!"  
  
"Ugh..."  
  
I lift my hand and slowly rub my forehead as they surround me again, worriedly trying to measure  
  
my status.  
  
The gloves are torn, and I feel that my back plate of leather has been battered by my growing  
  
wings.  
  
But the scales are gone, and so is the pain. There's not even any blood left on my skin, neither on  
  
the ground around me.  
  
"Art thee well?" Frog says, still trying to regain his breath after the pressure he went through a few  
  
moments ago.  
  
"Yes..."  
  
I manage to sit up with a lot of unnecessary help, still rubbing my forehead. My head is fine, but  
  
I'm trying to remember...  
  
Those voices... it's concerning me.  
  
And why would my mother help me? And how?  
  
"Say, what was queen Zeal doing here?" Lucca says, blankly.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"I haven't got a clue... what did you see?" I mutter.  
  
Crono awkwardly says that there was an intense light engulfing everything, and then suddenly the  
  
queen stepped out of it, carrying me. After that she just disappeared.  
  
He asks if she helped me.  
  
I shake my head again.  
  
"No, someone else..." I mutter, "but I couldn't see who it was. We have to hurry to stop Charash."  
  
"Art thee certain that thee hath the strength, brother?" Cered asks, helping me to get to my feet.  
  
As he speaks I'm honestly doubting. But when I stand up properly I'm suddenly filled with the  
  
power that was robbed from me. Maybe even more.  
  
'That's it,' that third voice grins, somewhere in the back of my head.  
  
'Who are you?' I send after it, frowning slightly.  
  
'You know me, my friend.'  
  
He chuckles.  
  
'You'll see soon enough.'  
  
And he's gone. Nothing to do about that, I suppose. There's no time for wondering.  
  
I purse my mouth and throw my gloves down into the abyss at the side of the ledge. No need for  
  
them anymore. A short spell repairs my back plate. Then I rip another hair from my head in order to  
  
search out the ones we have to help before it's too late.  
  
"I'm alright," I say, "come, it's not far."  
  
"That's our Janus for ya..." Lucca mutters as they follow me at the thinner ledge ahead, "face death,  
  
get up and move on."  
  
I stop for a moment and look around at Frog. He stops too, watching me without a word.  
  
The Masamune rests in its sheath, as always.  
  
He's always prepared to do what he knows that he has to, whether he likes it or not. I have to admit  
  
that it's not a too disgusting habit of his when the need for it comes.  
  
"Thank you," I honestly say, slowly and then continue on without looking back.  
  
I have passed a couple of yards before the sound of steps behind me starts to come again.  
  
'Removing the curse is impossible!' Molor mutters with disbelief.  
  
His voice is inside of my head, but he's not really there. I can't even search for his position, he's  
  
nowhere to be found. So I suppose that he's inside of my shadow again.  
  
'Does the law of Dragons perhaps say something about that only the king can remove it?' I ask.  
  
He's surprised.  
  
'How did you know?'  
  
'Because those who helped me said that.'  
  
'Charash wouldn't.'  
  
'It was someone else.'  
  
'Who?' he asks, frowning.  
  
'I don't know, someone familiar... but how can you know about Charash, Molor?'  
  
He's silent.  
  
I say nothing, concentrating on keeping my balance as I step out on the thin ledge leading further  
  
forward.  
  
The brooch is getting closer...  
  
There.  
  
"Careful," I mutter.  
  
"Please tell me anything but that..." Lucca weakly mumbles, with her face pale as the clouds below  
  
staring at nothing and fumbling for the cliff behind her.  
  
There's an enormous opening in the wall ahead.  
  
"Caves," Frog sighs, "why dost our fate always bring us to caves?"  
  
"I don't know, I only want to get off this thread that calls itself a road!" Lucca mutters through  
  
clenched teeth.  
  
I step into the cave and lend Cered a hand to help him follow.  
  
"There, waste no more worries, my comrade," my brother in law kindly says, grabs Lucca's  
  
shoulders and place her on the safe cave floor as easy as if she was a feather.  
  
"Err... thanks," she mumbles, for once blushing slightly.  
  
"They're deeper inside," I gravely report in a low voice as Frog enters the cave, letting go of my  
  
second hair.  
  
"How shalt we confront our foe?" Cered ponders.  
  
"Do you think that the cave will get much higher ahead, Lucca?" I ask, looking at the darkness  
  
resting where the day of light can't reach.  
  
"Well, technically I doubt it. But it wouldn't surprise me, though," she answers after hesitating for a  
  
moment.  
  
Crono sums up that anyhow Charash won't have as much room to fly around.  
  
"His wound should still be open," I say, "it's not much but it's a weak point. If we can surprise him  
  
Frog might get a chance to cut up some more parts of him."  
  
Thoughtfully I look ahead.  
  
"I might be able to give us a little better odds. One moment."  
  
I turn to my allies.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me pure power..."  
  
Halting.  
  
Protection.  
  
It's the spell called Magic wall. At least it works on magic, and theoretically it should give a little  
  
protection against the fire of a dragon too. But I doubt that it'll save anyone who gets trapped inside  
  
of the flames for more than a few seconds.  
  
For a moment Crono and the others are covered with a yellow light. They grimly nod as it ceases.  
  
The spell doesn't work on me since I am constantly protected by my own creation; the spell that  
  
makes me vulnerable only to the type of magic I last called for. And that was Shadow. Pure power  
  
doesn't count; my spell only works with one of the four elements of magic.  
  
Alright, with Light there's five nowadays.  
  
"We might be able to plan better when we know what it looks like in there," I say.  
  
"Let us hurry," Cered growls.  
  
I nod, and so do the others.  
  
We move into the darkness, away from the light of day. 


	11. And if you saw THIS coming, I bow to the...

1 ~*~Chapter 11 Molor's secret~*~  
  
For a while we have to move very slowly, trying to find the way without making a single sound.  
  
Then there's suddenly an eerie light ahead. And Marle's angry voice. I hear Crono growl silently,  
  
forcing himself to keep calm.  
  
"Look here, you oversized dinosaur! If you mess with our friends you'll be sorry, I warn you!"  
  
"Brave words from such a small woman," Charash's voice rumble.  
  
He's obviously amused.  
  
"Thou art a foul villain!" the voice of the emperor's daughter snarls.  
  
Why in the name of Lavos do I grin slightly as I hear the power in her voice?  
  
She seems braver than I thought, but that's no reason to smile!  
  
"My father and uncle will smite thee, beast!" Schaliya calls out, startling even me with her  
  
impertinent.  
  
"Thy daughter is a brave one," Frog mumbles to Cered with a slight smile.  
  
She's alive. A stone of worries dissolve inside of my mind.  
  
"Thank the heavens..." my brother in law mutters.  
  
"You are an impudent child," Charash snorts with a smirk, "and just as amusing as the others. A pity  
  
that you are so small."  
  
"Touch her and I will tear off every single scale of your crouched body!" Schala growls.  
  
I reach the end of the tunnel.  
  
Caves. Frog's right; we always seem to end up in those.  
  
I recall the cave below Ozzie's castle, where the secret of my studies to become Magus was  
  
unveiled by Flea and Slash five years ago (in my view, that is. In reality it's of course a future event).  
  
But this cavern is at least twice as big. The eerie light seem to come from the walls themselves, surely  
  
by the dragon's wish.  
  
Charash is lying by the distant left corner, smirking at the three princesses and Schaliya. They are  
  
standing up, resolutely facing him. He's not really doing anything to make them stay; the wide chasm  
  
between them and the rest of the cave works fine. Schaliya is holding on to her mother's skirt, and  
  
Schala is pushing her backwards for the little protection my sister can provide.  
  
"You truly fascinate me," Charash sneers.  
  
From here it's impossible to see the state of his wound; that side is turned at the wall. And  
  
therefore we can't use magic against it. And how many didn't believe there would be complications?  
  
"How to proceed?" Cered whispers.  
  
"I hath an idea," Frog says in a low voice.  
  
"Your ideas are never without madness," I mutter, mostly by habit.  
  
He winks with one of his bulb eyes.  
  
"Mayhap 'tis the cruel truth," he says, "but thee must lend me the acknowledge that they often have  
  
led to victory."  
  
"Stop fooling around and speak up," Lucca grimly mutters.  
  
"If someone wouldst attract his attention I should be able to attack him again," Frog says and turns to  
  
me and Crono, "and I carry the belief that the technique that we named Spire would be twice as  
  
painful when two powerful magicians combine their magic."  
  
Now, now. That's diabolical, you little pest.  
  
I feel my lips move into a tiny grin. Crono smiles cruelly.  
  
"I'm not sure if I like that 'someone' who has to attract attention, but..." Lucca sighs and makes a  
  
tired salute.  
  
"Let us work together," Cered says, trustfully, "but go different paths."  
  
"Ready when you are," the inventor says, clenching her jaw.  
  
Frog, Crono, Cered and myself nod.  
  
The only woman of our small troop silently hurries over to the other side of the tunnel, then  
  
follows the cave wall deeper inside. Frog rushes after her, his small feet not creating a single sound.  
  
Cered goes first, myself and Crono follow him halfway down the wall on our side of the tunnel.  
  
My brother in law continues on for a while, then stops and looks around at Lucca. She has stopped,  
  
but Frog is still sneaking up on Charash from behind. As he stops and looks around all of us nod.  
  
The dragon and the prisoners are concentrating on each other, and I don't dare to risk sending  
  
Schala a calming thought. Our enemy might hear it too, since his mind is very dominant.  
  
Lucca and Cered press their palms together and begin to chant the most powerful spell they can  
  
use.  
  
Charash startles and looks around as Lucca's flaming orbs bombard him from behind. They  
  
bounce on his scales and disappear, but at least they surprise him. As he turns his head, Cered's  
  
Flare rush at him from the other direction.  
  
"What the...!"  
  
The big head sways back...  
  
"Cered!" Schala calls out as she sees him, her voice a mixture of relief and fear for his safety.  
  
"Face thy fate, foul beast!"  
  
Frog's voice cuts through the explosions of magic as he leaps onto Charash's tail and further up.  
  
He lands between the dragon's wings and force the Masamune downwards as he meant to kill me  
  
just about twenty minutes ago.  
  
It can't be more than a bee's sting for the dragon, but it surely irritates him. His wings beats angrily  
  
as he tries to shake off the knight and the weapon. Frog jumps aside and manage to land on the floor  
  
without loosing his balance despite the long fall, desperately jumping further away.  
  
"If thee please, my comrades!" he shouts.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Lightning!" I demand.  
  
Bolts.  
  
Forceful.  
  
Become one.  
  
I hear Crono chant by my side, and lightning bolts explode out of our chests. At first they are  
  
nothing but small dancing threads, but then I reach out my mind and find the young man's.  
  
Combine!  
  
Our bolts spin around each other, a tornado of light. Then they are no longer apart, but one massive  
  
beam.  
  
Together we aim it at the Masamune sticking out of Charash's back.  
  
His roar almost tears the mountain apart. It's filled with pain, but the mere outraged humiliation in  
  
his voice is stronger than his agony.  
  
Hate to admit it, but we make a good team, Janus! Crono grins and slaps the palm of my right hand.  
  
"I fear that you're right for once, boy," I grin back, feeling quite pleased after returning a little of the  
  
dragon's favor.  
  
Charash's teeth close around the Masamune and rip it out of his back.  
  
Oh, forgot about his long neck...  
  
The sword buries in the ceiling of the cave after a hasty flight.  
  
Crono says something truly wise.  
  
Uh-oh...  
  
"You little insects!" Charash roars and sends a wave of flames at Frog.  
  
He manage to jump above them, but the fire continues forward anyhow.  
  
Towards me and Crono.  
  
I grab the young man's shoulders and leap straight upwards. The heat almost brings me off  
  
balance, but I manage to keep up and avoid crashing as I land.  
  
Crono is breathing hard, gasping a "thank you".  
  
"Masamune, cometh to my hand!" Frog calls.  
  
The sword makes small, desperate movements high up there, trying to free itself from the  
  
mountain's grip.  
  
It's stuck.  
  
Marle's fiancé said it best...  
  
Frankly, we are in trouble.  
  
"You seem shocked, petty creatures," Charash smirk.  
  
He calmly lays down on the ground despite our tries to kill him.  
  
The scales on his forehead rise like a forest when he frowns.  
  
"What has happened to you?" he asks, sharply looking at me.  
  
"Purification," I snarl.  
  
He snorts.  
  
"How foolish... but it's nothing that can't be mended, even if you managed to fight it back once.  
  
Someone with your power is useful."  
  
"Why?! Let me go!"  
  
"You have a lot of power slumbering within, Magus. You will surely be helpful in our battle against  
  
the humans."  
  
...  
  
"It took us almost thirteen years and the result might not have been what we expected, but we created  
  
a Magus."  
  
I am what I choose to be! I will never be a puppet!  
  
"I'm a human, do you hear me?" I shout in rage, "I am a human, and my name is Janus!"  
  
My anger isn't only aimed at Charash, but also at Ozzie, Flea, Slash, Dalton and Lavos. At anyone  
  
who somehow has tried to disrupt the one I am, trying to turn me into something else.  
  
I am Janus, brother of Schala!  
  
"Pathetic struggle..." Charash snorts.  
  
"Powers of the world, I bid of thee to lend me the power of Light and Fire!" Cered roars.  
  
What the...?  
  
His chanting is the loudest I've ever heard, but he's just as desperate as the rest of us.  
  
And that despair, fused with his worry for his wife and child, finally releases his ultimate power.  
  
I have never seen one person alone combine two magic elements in one single spell. It just doesn't  
  
work that way.  
  
But on the other hand, Light isn't among the normal elements. And Schala's husband is quite  
  
extraordinary too.  
  
Cered's chanting is for a moment all that is heard, its power even trapping Charash in some sort of  
  
fascination.  
  
Light.  
  
Fire.  
  
Passion.  
  
Inner.  
  
Soul.  
  
Flames of the spirit.  
  
Passion? What a word to use in a spell...  
  
By the powers...!  
  
"Duck!" I shout and push Crono off balance as I throw myself down.  
  
Cered's eyes are wide open and glow intensely from within as his feet leaves the ground, holding  
  
his shaking hands turned against each other on one foot's distance. Flaming sparkles fly between his  
  
fingertips.  
  
With an unearthly screech he throws his hands in Charash's direction.  
  
From each one of his fingers glowing, flaring half moons fly, small at first but growing for every  
  
inch of air that they bolt past. The power they radiate almost tears my brain into pieces.  
  
Charash is unable to get aside in time. His enormous body crashes against the cave wall, creating a  
  
minor earthquake.  
  
It surprises me that the Masamune doesn't fall from the ceiling.  
  
"Well done, father!" Schaliya triumphantly yells.  
  
"Everyone, now!" I roar, seeing that Cered's magic perhaps didn't hurt the dragon deadly but left  
  
him disoriented and even managed to burn his otherwise resistant scales.  
  
At places where the giant half-moons hit, Charash's dirtily red armor had turned darker. He's  
  
vulnerable!  
  
"Dark powers of the underworld...!"  
  
I hear Crono chant, the voices of Frog, Lucca and Marle join us. Schala begins, but the blond  
  
princess waves at her to think of her baby. My sister isn't happy about it, but accepts.  
  
Cered is on his knees, trying to regain his breath after his explosion of power.  
  
Well done, brother.  
  
I smile coldly, watching Charash shake his head to regain his senses. This is what I think of your  
  
"blessing"!  
  
Power.  
  
Intention.  
  
Evil.  
  
Substance.  
  
Dark Matter.  
  
Frog's Tide of Sunlight rushes over the floor while Lucca's second storm of red, flashing orbs dash  
  
through the air and gigantic blocks of ice appears from nowhere to crash upon Charash's body on  
  
Marle's command.  
  
I concentrate Dark Matter...  
  
Crono's feet leave the floor, just as Cered's did. But after all my brother in law is the boy's  
  
ancestor and they have quite a few things in common.  
  
Charash wriggles as the light green cupola grows around him. Just as it's about to release its full  
  
force I command Dark Matter to explode in its center.  
  
The dragon's wings are forced slick against his body and his head hits the ground as the two spells  
  
combine their power.  
  
After the rumble is over there's a complete silence before most of us either drop to our knees or  
  
lean heavily against the wall. I prefer the later.  
  
"That's the spirit we showed Lavos, isn't it guys?!" Marle cheers, jumping up and down on the other  
  
side of the rift.  
  
"Art thee well?" Cered calls, still gasping for air.  
  
"We're fine, love!" Schala yells back, smiling warmly.  
  
"Be he always that filled with authority?" the emperor's daughter asks.  
  
I'm probably the only one in this part of the cave with ears sharp enough to hear what she's saying.  
  
Marle stops jumping and looks at the other princess, puzzled.  
  
"Who, Cered?" she wonders, blankly.  
  
Lashey snorts.  
  
"Certainly not," she says, "I meant of course the wiza..."  
  
'Look out!' Molor screams into my head.  
  
"Careful!" I shout instinctively.  
  
Too late.  
  
Charash's powerful wings flap, creating yet another unfightable storm. I am thrown backwards into  
  
the cave wall, just as into the house earlier. But this time, Crono is thrown at me too. His elbow  
  
forcefully hits my stomach, the pain making my mind flicker for a moment. The next second Frog's  
  
smaller body hits Crono's, and I receive yet another strike.  
  
Ugh...  
  
"How much beating are you going to take?!" Marle screeches.  
  
"Much more than you insects can provide!" Charash snarls.  
  
He raises his head and turns it at his own body. Flames flow from his mouth, engulfing him.  
  
"The odds art against us..." Frog groans.  
  
I'm still shaking my head, trying to get my senses back in the right order.  
  
As I manage, I find what the knight meant.  
  
It seems like a dragon's own fiery breath can heal its wounds.  
  
Almost all of our power is drained up, all for nothing. Charash is fully recovered.  
  
Smoke flows from his nostrils.  
  
"So be it!" he roars and opens his mouth again, this time aiming at the three of us.  
  
Flames burst out of his throat, I'm too weakened to...  
  
The fire stops halfway over the floor. I raise my head in surprise at the familiar hiss of rage and  
  
returned presence.  
  
Molor is standing on the tip of his tail, hissing furiously. And Charash is staring at him with  
  
disbelief.  
  
"You?!" the dragon growl.  
  
"Be gone, Charash!" Molor calls out, "these humans are under my protection!"  
  
He's not speaking to my mind, and that is the reason that everyone in the cave with a human soul  
  
are staring at him.  
  
Even I.  
  
Molor speaks. With a hissing, humanoid voice.  
  
"How dare you show yourself here, Molor, you little worm!?" Charash snarls.  
  
"I refuse the law, coward!"  
  
"Have you no pride at all left?"  
  
Molor gives a dry laugh, bitterly.  
  
"You speak of my pride?" he shouts, "wasn't it you who took it from me?"  
  
Charash's disbelief turns into a smirk.  
  
"So, so," he sneers, "and what do you plan to do in order to stop me?"  
  
"I will not allow you to harm these humans!" Molor hisses.  
  
"Pha!"  
  
Charash laughs coldly.  
  
"You are a foolish worm, Molor. I am almost sad to see that the former great king of Dragons even  
  
has lost his mind to madness."  
  
His words are like a cut through the head.  
  
"What!?" I choke, and I'm not the only one with that opinion.  
  
The dragon snorts.  
  
"Shame on you, Molor," he sneers, "you wish to call yourself their ally but haven't even told them  
  
about such an important fact?"  
  
The snake turns his head and looks straight at me with pure sadness flowing out of him.  
  
"I am sorry, friend," he bitterly mutters, "I could not tell you."  
  
"You are a dragon?!" I harshly say.  
  
"I used to be. Until Charash defeated me in battle and banned me to this world in this body. And now  
  
he has the nerve to wish to claim even these lands."  
  
The soul of a dragon... so that's how it worked. Molor is a dragon and my kindred spirit. No  
  
wonder my soul resembled; we wouldn't make such a team if things were different.  
  
He's a dragon?  
  
Well, what does that matter now, anyhow?  
  
I smile bitterly.  
  
"I don't care," I say.  
  
His sadness falters, and he gives me a weak smile resembling to the one on my lips.  
  
"I thank you, friend."  
  
"How dramatic," Charash snorts, "good bye."  
  
Molor desperately creates a dark barrier against the first wave of fire, but the second one throws  
  
him backwards into Frog and the knight's descendant.  
  
Crono, would you... ugh... mind moving your elbow from my stomach?  
  
"Forgive my failing...!" Molor harshly whispers as a third storm of fire dances over the ground,  
  
melting the pebbles lying around and turning the air into flowing glass.  
  
If there was time to think and regain my breath I could have told him that he couldn't do anything.  
  
But time is running out far too fast.  
  
"Fare thee well...!" Frog growls, hoarsely.  
  
The fire is twenty yards away, the heat already burning my face. In only a few seconds, not even  
  
that...  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Water!"  
  
Ice.  
  
Blade.  
  
Cold.  
  
The massive flames are cut in several smaller, harmless pieces by...  
  
A giant broadsword.  
  
And a scythe.  
  
Two shadows stand in the remaining flames for a moment before the fire disappears, seemingly  
  
untouched by the heat. Their weapons are white with frost.  
  
At very rare times, I become amazed.  
  
But those times are becoming less rare.  
  
My jaw drops as the two monsters turn around, grinning. Both of them are dressed in simple, stiff  
  
tunics and their bodies are covered by a mixture between skin and scales. The one with the  
  
broadsword is a muscled giant, deeply purple. The other one is wiry looking and green.  
  
And he is Ozzie's forefather.  
  
"What the... Lizard?!" manage to work its way past my tongue. 


	12. When dragons clash

1 ~*~Chapter 12 Four dead, not deaths~*~  
  
The first king of Mystics chuckles, places his free fist against his chest and bows.  
  
"At your service," he says.  
  
The voice that ripped out the dark heart.  
  
Warrior gives a laugh and thumps his leader's back so hard that Lizard almost falls over.  
  
"Shame on you, my friend," the powerful voice of Slash's ancestor booms, "you said you'd die  
  
before bowing for another human."  
  
You now face two of the four dead…  
  
The black wind wasn't warning for deaths to come, but announcing those who already are…?  
  
"He is dead, barbarian," the doubting voice smiles, "or rather, not even born yet."  
  
Magician, Flea's forefather, materializes just beside his companions.  
  
You now face three… the black wind softly whispers.  
  
"A promise is a promise, right?" Warrior merrily grins.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
The grin on Lizard's lips dissolves, and he watches me gravely.  
  
"And I swore that I would repay your and your friends' help, which was vital in our battle for  
  
freedom," he grimly says and sighs, "or if I wouldn't be able to do so, one of my family line would  
  
repay you in my place."  
  
Oh.  
  
Magician chuckles and points at Lizard with his thumb.  
  
"Would you believe it?" the softly red skinned monster snorts, "he spends his life fighting against  
  
humans and then he turns heaven upside down until they agree to let him return in order to help a few  
  
of you."  
  
"Now, now," Warrior snorts, "don't get condemning just because they are humans."  
  
"Mind your manners both of you," Lizard grins.  
  
Behind their backs, Charash is moving again. He's obviously surprised, and very frustrated. His  
  
great tail hits the floor and causes another earthquake.  
  
Magician almost falls over, but Warrior grabs his shoulder as all three of them sway by the  
  
tremors.  
  
"My belief was that ghosts were untouched by such mortal troubles," Frog says and scrambles to his  
  
feet, his voice slightly unsteady of the remaining surprise.  
  
"Frankly we're not really ghosts," Magician confesses, "we're a little more sturdy than when we  
  
were during our life span, but if we get killed we're going back up without further notice."  
  
"But you're not even born!" I point out, frowning, "how can you return as ghosts three thousand  
  
years from your existence?"  
  
"You are getting on my nerves!" Charash growls and opens his mouth again.  
  
"Spirits have free insight in the whole history, it's really nothing," Warrior calls as he leaps aside  
  
with his sword on his back and a companion's shoulder in each hand.  
  
I throw my cloak at Molor, Frog and Crono and then clumsily jump to avoid the flames.  
  
It wasn't really needed.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Water!"  
  
The roaring flames drown the chanting, but despite that a seemingly fragile figure dressed in a  
  
purple cloak halts the powerful heat with an enormous wall of ice.  
  
"What the...?" Charash growls, irritated.  
  
The flames disappears, and after them the ice.  
  
"I don't like it when evil beasts mess with my children," queen Zeal coldly says.  
  
And the fourth, whom you've already met, prince of a fallen kingdom…  
  
"Mother?!" Schala gasps, taking one step backwards.  
  
Marle's jaw is about to hit the floor. Schaliya just watches her own mother with confusion. I'm  
  
surprised, but less than my sister and the princess of the future.  
  
"I am sorry from the bottom of my heart for all the terrible things that happened, and I truly mean  
  
it!" queen Zeal honestly calls and hurriedly throws up a second wall for the fire.  
  
But this time, she's forced several feet backwards.  
  
"Any of you have strength enough for another magic blow?" Magician shouts, his eyes going over  
  
the stunned Cered, Lucca, Marle and me.  
  
"Are you pulling my leg?" the inventor calls back, helplessly shaking her head.  
  
I'm also far too drained of power, and I'm certain that the people still inside of my cloak and mind  
  
haven't anything left to give either. Marle shakes her head.  
  
No can do.  
  
Mother is forced to back even more for yet another attack from the dragon.  
  
"Well, I guess we have no choice then!" Warrior merrily says and throws Lizard at me.  
  
The green monster spins around and lands on his feet, looking over his shoulder with a roll of his  
  
eyes.  
  
"Stop doing that, for heaven's sake!" he sighs.  
  
"Lizard, quit fooling around!" mother shouts, backing again.  
  
The first king of Mystics gravely nods and turns to me.  
  
"I think we have to try that saving theory again, my friend," he says, "I need to see the snake."  
  
My eyebrows twitch, but I shake my cloak without really questioning him. Frog, Crono and Molor  
  
steps out of it.  
  
"What..." my kindred spirit begins.  
  
"Care for a second round?" Lizard says, grinning.  
  
He takes the scythe I'll give him in the future in his left hand instead and reaches out his right hand  
  
for Molor.  
  
"I demand that this curse shall be lifted immediately!" the king of monsters growls.  
  
By the powers...  
  
"I accept!" Molor screech, almost madly triumphant.  
  
His long body is covered in a red light, and as soon as it ceases he begins to grow.  
  
"Why you little...!" Charash roars and flies to his feet.  
  
"Keep him occupied, I need a moment!" Molor hisses with an evil grin, his voice growing deeper  
  
and more powerful for every single word.  
  
My only begun transformation was burning torture, but my kindred spirit seems to morph with  
  
pleasure.  
  
"Janus, take this!" Frog growls.  
  
I spin around at him, and he sends a small bottle filled with a yellow liquid through the air. My  
  
hand grabs it by instinct.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me you had one earlier?" I mutter, not really mad at him.  
  
"Thou did not speak the query," he says and rolls his eyes.  
  
I turn around.  
  
"Use everything you've got!" I shout as I rush over the floor towards Cered, "we have to slow him  
  
down for a few moments!"  
  
"What..." Cered begins as Lucca's strained but resolute chanting starts somewhere behind the sound  
  
of Charash's movements.  
  
"Use that Spirit Flame again!" I tell him and push the potion called full ether into his hand.  
  
He grimly nods.  
  
"Very well, brother."  
  
"And tell your blasted princess to stop looking at me like that," I growl without even looking at the  
  
cut off corner of the cave.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Looking at thee?" Frog's voice calls behind me, disbelieving.  
  
"Oh, good grief..." Marle groans.  
  
"What?" I growl, irritated.  
  
"Cered," Frog yells, grinning, "I fear we must ponder the way that the mind of thy princess works.  
  
That lady must simply be mad."  
  
I look around, finding a very stupid grin on both the knight and Crono's lips. The realization makes  
  
me feel sick.  
  
"My ears hear naught!" I snarl, "stop being idiots and chant!"  
  
"Thy 'ears hear naught'?!" Frog laughs despite the fact that our situation requires focusing, "Janus,  
  
thou art in grave danger!"  
  
"Shut it, reptile!" I growl, and I'm becoming really angry.  
  
Still grinning Frog turns to Charash. The dragon's nostrils and the back of his throat are flaming;  
  
he's trying to build up a massive fire this time.  
  
"Now that's not going to work, my friend!" Molor roars mockingly as thin black legs, as a burned  
  
skeleton's grow out of his sides, "you should know well that such a move is a grave waste of power."  
  
Charash hesitates for a moment, giving Lucca and Marle time to finish their chanting. The princess  
  
has more power left, therefore the inventor's flames are nothing but shadows on the blocks of ice.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Water!" I mutter.  
  
Marle's magic is the one that seem to work best since it's a magic of material, and it's about what I  
  
can handle for the moment.  
  
It could be that the dragon is resistant, but the weight of the ice is still there.  
  
Cered's chanting drowns mine, and I duck to avoid the power dashing from his magic. This blow is  
  
weaker than the last one, but still effective. The dragon is forced a few steps backwards, and I drop a  
  
couple of cold rocks on his neck. Magician follows my example.  
  
Before the king of dragons' has fully recovered the cave shivers by an unearthly screech. I look up.  
  
Charash looks up.  
  
Both of us freeze. And so does everyone else facing Molor.  
  
His transformation is completed.  
  
He is hideous.  
  
His body is black and thin, not at all muscled as Charash's. He seems to be built up mostly by  
  
scales and bones, using as little flesh as possible. More like a skeleton than a living dragon. The  
  
enormous wings on his back are shining like fresh blood against the rest of him, his white, bent teeth  
  
not hidden behind any lips simply because there are none.  
  
He is absolutely hideous.  
  
And the power he emits is overwhelmingly fascinating; how that thin body can seem so strong.  
  
I get to my feet, and there's a cold smile on my lips.  
  
Molor turns his enormous head at me, and in his yellow eyes there is a triumph that I share with  
  
him.  
  
'I will take care of Charash, friend,' he whispers in my mind, in a low voice not to disrupt my spirit  
  
with his force.  
  
'That would be appreciated,' I reply, grinning.  
  
He smiles coldly, since he has no lips that smile is living only in my mind.  
  
His long, sharp tail moves into my reach, I grab it with both hands and he sends me flying to the  
  
corner where the prisoners stand. I land on my feet without any trouble and reach out my hand for  
  
Schala to awake her from the shock.  
  
"Uncle!"  
  
Schaliya lets go of her mother and reach up to take my hanging hand. With a smile of relief I  
  
bend down and take her small face between my scale free fingers and palms.  
  
She's safe.  
  
"I felt no fear, I knew that thee would come!" she smiles.  
  
"You're much braver than I thought, little one," I tell her with a smile, "now I'll bring you to safety."  
  
Schala's hands grab my shoulders as I straighten up, and then she throws her arms around my neck.  
  
"Thank all the powers that you are alright, Janus!" she grimly whispers.  
  
I don't say a word at first, just place my hands on her shoulders and nod.  
  
"Are you alright?" I ask.  
  
Schala's breathing gives away that she's about to speak again, but all of us startle at the two roars. I  
  
spin around to see Molor and Charash's heads dash against each other, their claws tearing off scales  
  
and dark flesh wherever they can reach. Despite his seemingly loss of muscles my kindred spirit is  
  
obviously truly very strong. Charash seems unable to force him backwards even when attacking with  
  
all his might.  
  
"Shall we move a little?" Marle suggests with a rather weak voice.  
  
"Yes."  
  
I turn my head and find myself staring into the eyes of Lashey. Her silly little snake is on her  
  
shoulder, watching me with similar cold fascination.  
  
"You might as well dream about flying, lady," I sharply say.  
  
Lashey's eyebrows twitch a little, but the creepy interest in her eyes only grows.  
  
Can't I say anything to make her angry?!  
  
"Thou art a proud and stubborn man, lord Janus," she says with a cold smile, "and that is rare these  
  
days."  
  
"Charming. Now shut up."  
  
I grab my cloak and sweep it through the air, sending all of the female prisoners and the white little  
  
pet out of danger.  
  
At least I won't have to see her when she's inside of my closed mind.  
  
I run and leap past the abyss as Molor crash into the wall where Lucca stood a few moments ago.  
  
The inventor had wisely moved though, and is unhurt.  
  
"I can't really see how you can like him," Marle's voice says inside of my head, "but if you're that  
  
determined there's a few things I could..."  
  
"I warn you, Marle," I sharply say while Molor gets to his feet and sends a wave of flames at  
  
Charash.  
  
The red dragon has to back off, thereby forcing me to hurry down the cave, so as not to get too close.  
  
"Janus, don't be so cold blooded," Schala grins.  
  
"I see you find this really amusing!" I snarl while running.  
  
"Please shed no fury upon thy sister, lord Janus," Lashey calmly says.  
  
"Oh, he's not really mad," my sister tells her.  
  
"Like hell I'm not!"  
  
"Mind your manners, my son," mother smiles, rushing up beside me as she also moves away from  
  
Charash.  
  
I snort.  
  
"You're telling me how to behave, mother?" I snap.  
  
"I'm just taking my chances now since I wasn't good at it earlier," she merrily replies.  
  
"Aww, show your mother some respect!" Warrior calls, grinning.  
  
I glare at him. Lizard and Magician are behind the purple monster, grinning teasingly.  
  
"Is this something that all of you have planned behind my back?" I growl, "I don't find it  
  
entertaining."  
  
"But you'd make a sweet couple for sure!" Marle teases, laughing.  
  
"You say so?"  
  
A cold smile comes to my lips.  
  
"Then tell me, Marle," I say, slowly, "do you actually want me to be your ancestor?"  
  
There's a silence, and I feel Schala fight against a loud laugh.  
  
"You know what," Marle finally says, nervously, "Janus has some really bad habits. Turning  
  
his best friends into amphibians and stuff..."  
  
"Frog is certainly not my best friend, lady!" I sharply snap.  
  
"Thou break my poor heart," the knight snorts, hurrying down the wall to escape Molor's violent tail.  
  
"My pleasure."  
  
"Still I find him genuinely intriguing," Lashey says with a cold smile.  
  
I'd threaten to break her neck if it wasn't for Schaliya...  
  
Closing the room so that I can't hear them at all seems tempting, but I don't want to risk those  
  
ladies planning something. I really thought that Schala was on my side...  
  
Molor and Charash's heads almost hit the ceiling of the cave as they stand on their back paws,  
  
violently scratching at each other with their several feet long claws.  
  
"I defeated you once, elder!" the blood red one snarls, "you are too old to fight!"  
  
"And you are tired after battling the humans," Molor replies, in his voice a cold sneer, "and anyhow  
  
I'm not that old!"  
  
"A wise king should have stepped down by seven hundred years!"  
  
"I still have a couple hundred left, youngster!"  
  
I suppose that he'll live past me, then... if he survives the battle.  
  
Both of the dragons have deep cuts on their backs and front legs, dark blood is streaming over the  
  
cave's floor and makes it slippery. It's impossible to judge which one of them who is the strongest.  
  
They are swaying back and forth, trying to keep their balance while standing only on insecure back  
  
paws and attacking at the same time.  
  
Charash sends out a clawed paw for surely the thousand time, and this time Molor doesn't have the time to  
  
move off. He is thrown down, but before the younger dragon has time to close his jaws around the  
  
long, black neck Molor sends out his long tail and wraps it around Charash's left back leg. With a  
  
roar of surprise the red beast falls, slipping on his own and Molor's blood. His heavy landing causes a  
  
smaller earthquake. Cered, who was exhaustedly leaning against the wall after his massive  
  
consumption of power, stumbles and falls to his knees. Frog hurries over to him to help him to get up  
  
again, I rush trough the air towards them without even touching the ground with my feet. Meanwhile  
  
Charash manages get up before Molor can finish him off.  
  
"Get in!" I snarl and hold up my cloak.  
  
"And should the beasts crush thee, all of us will perish together," the knight sighs, but dives into the  
  
cloth together with Cered.  
  
"Father!" Schaliya's voice calls.  
  
"Hello, sweet flower," my brother in law tiredly smiles, "art thee all well?"  
  
"We're fine, love," Schala smiles.  
  
"It warms my heart to hear those blessed words, rose of the desert," Cered mumbles in a rather  
  
muffled voice.  
  
"Good to see you in one single raw piece, Frog," Marle says with a trace of embarrassment in her  
  
voice, surely because of Schala and Cered's kissing.  
  
"I cherish thy faith in me," the knight snorts.  
  
"Thou art as brave as my parents and my uncle!" Schaliya says with a big smile.  
  
"I thank thee, little lady."  
  
"Be thee not a monster?" Lashey asks with astonishment.  
  
"Nay," Frog chuckles, "my guise speaks against me, alas I am human."  
  
"See?" Marle nervously says, "I'm telling you, Janus has a sick sense of humor!"  
  
I would have smiled is it wasn't for the princess' reaction.  
  
She's laughing.  
  
I could shout at her to go below. The only reason I don't do it is that it seems like Schala is on her  
  
side and for the moment I haven't even the nerve for a jocular argument. You traitor, sister...  
  
"Ah, 'tis a story I must hear one day," the emperor's daughter grins.  
  
"I fear thee will not escape this lady too quickly, warlock," Frog sneers.  
  
"Stop mocking me or I'll throw my cloak down the mountain!" I snap, irritated.  
  
"Dost not be mean to my uncle!" Schaliya snorts.  
  
"No, we're just joking," Schala says with a short laugh.  
  
"Fantastically amusing," I say, cold as ice.  
  
The whole world seems to shiver by Molor's roar.  
  
Charash has buried his teeth in my kindred spirit's back. By instinct I reach for my scythe in order  
  
to help, but before I even remembered that it's meaningless, Molor has swung his long neck  
  
almost completely around. His teeth disappear into the foundation of Charash's neck and with a roar  
  
of pain the red dragon is torn away and down on the floor.  
  
Molor places both his front paws on the battered chest of his opponent before Charash has time to  
  
make an attempt to break free.  
  
The black dragon snaps his head upwards and secures his teeth just below the younger one's head.  
  
One movement from either of them and Charash will be dead. He becomes completely tense, his  
  
yellow eyes wide open.  
  
'This seems familiar, doesn't it?' Molor snarls with a telepathic voice that everyone can hear, since  
  
his mouth is too occupied to use for talking.  
  
Charash says nothing.  
  
'Your life is mine this time, youngster,' my kindred spirit spits out, 'I hope you learn a little respect  
  
from it.'  
  
His great eyes move to me.  
  
'I will let you decide this time, friend,' he gravely says, 'I owe you that.'  
  
I look at Charash.  
  
It seems as if everyone is holding their breath. The dragon's eyes are as wide as they possibly can  
  
become, staring at me.  
  
I remember the flaring torture, the feeling of being torn into pieces from inside. The bitterness  
  
when Molor wouldn't tell me the truth, when the dragon forced him to turn away since that was the  
  
law. That deed, persuading my kindred spirit into almost violating our alliance, it was far darker than  
  
my agony.  
  
Of course I know what Magus thinks, his voice is calling out to me from deep inside my soul.  
  
I slowly shake my head.  
  
"You know my verdict, Molor."  
  
'Very well.'  
  
Charash blinks as the black dragon's teeth move away from his neck.  
  
"What?" Frog gasps inside of my head, disbelieving.  
  
Lucca and Crono are staring at me, just as surprised. My back is turned at the four ghosts, but I can  
  
imagine the looks on their faces.  
  
I smile coldly.  
  
There's nothing I enjoy more than defying Magus.  
  
"Return to your world and don't dare to show your face here again," Molor coldly says.  
  
Charash scrambles to his feet, his wild eyes moving between the black dragon and me. The he  
  
turns to the closest wall, which is facing the entrance to the cave. The stream of fire leaving his mouth  
  
is rather thin and weak, but it seems to work anyway.  
  
It looks like an enormous Gate. A black, flashing hole opens in the cave wall, and with one last  
  
glare at Molor Charash dives into it, fleeing.  
  
The portal closes.  
  
Molor takes in a deep breath.  
  
His thin legs bend, and he crash on the floor.  
  
With a growl fused with a shout I rush over to his head, very concernedly putting my hands beside  
  
one of his gigantic eyes.  
  
He watches me exhaustedly.  
  
"That was... rather amusing..." he mutters, hoarsely.  
  
His whole body is covered in a red light again, and he rapidly shrinks.  
  
In only a few seconds he has turned back into a snake, bloodied and torn. I sit down on my knees,  
  
carefully lifting his head from the messy floor. Lucca, mother and the three monsters walk closer,  
  
silently watching me and my kindred spirit. Those that I surpassed to my mind stumbles out of my  
  
cloak, joining the others watching.  
  
"You did well, Molor," I say, with my thumb drying away a stream of blood that almost runs into  
  
one of his eyes, "very impressive indeed."  
  
"I thank you, my friend..."  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Water..." mother calmly chants.  
  
Marle and Frog join in into her praying and chanting. Golden stars fall into Molor's battered body,  
  
softly covering him in a healing light.  
  
"I thank you," he says and straightens up, freed from wounds.  
  
"Tell me, why hast thee not spoken before, my friend?" Cered asks, carefully.  
  
Molor's forked tongue dance between his naturally cracked lips, a silent laughter.  
  
"The human language burns my throat," he says.  
  
"Personally I always thought that the humans copied our language," Warrior grins, making  
  
Magician slap the back of his head with a chuckle.  
  
"You have a wonderful daughter, Schala," I hear mother say, but I don't look up.  
  
"Who is that, mother?" Schaliya asks.  
  
I hear Schala take a deep breath. She's surely tormented by memories and confused gratefulness,  
  
and she has to go through all of it by herself.  
  
But I already know the final conclusion.  
  
"She is your grandmother, Schaliya," my sister finally says with a careful smile.  
  
"Hello," Queen Zeal tentatively says.  
  
"Hello, grandmother," the child happily replies.  
  
Ah, Schaliya...  
  
I look up to see the two blue-haired women reach out for each other's hands, carefully. In the end  
  
they hug each other tightly, making up for the wounds that Lavos left. As mother looks up at Cered  
  
she smiles warmly. He smiles back, a bit unsure about how to handle meeting the ghost of his wife's  
  
mother.  
  
'Why wouldn't you stay a dragon?' I ask Molor, silently.  
  
'Your cloak would be too small,' he says with a short, dry laugh.  
  
I have to smile at that. Then I turn my head and look at Lizard.  
  
"Thank you for lending a hand," I gravely say.  
  
"No problem whatsoever," he smiles.  
  
He turns to Crono, still smiling.  
  
"Ah yes," the first king of Mystics says, "there was one other thing. Both of your cats are in a  
  
crumbling castle, one in a distant past and one in the future. And your mother is..."  
  
He frowns and rubs his forehead.  
  
"Help me out, Magician," he finally sighs.  
  
"Seventeenth February, 1984 AD. Just by the Sun Keep," the softly red monster says, grinning at his  
  
forgetful friend.  
  
"That's it."  
  
"Are you sure?" Marle asks, frowning.  
  
"Oh, please!" Magician sighs with a laugh.  
  
Lucca is scratching her helmet.  
  
"Hey, now that you mention it... wasn't there a cat in the Tyrano Lair, and one helping us out in  
  
Ozzie's castle?"  
  
"Yes indeed, inventor," Warrior says, smiling.  
  
Crono speaks out a very heartily thanking to the three monsters.  
  
"It's only because watching you three going like mad through history was such a sad sight," the  
  
ancestor of Slash says, waving with a hand.  
  
"Ignore him, he's a barbarian," Magician sighs.  
  
"Don't tell me you suddenly like humans," the purple one grins.  
  
"You're not going to make me believe that you don't care about those here."  
  
"I only came for the same reason I'm fighting by your side, oh great magic user," Warrior snorts,  
  
"because Lizard keeps telling me to."  
  
"This seems somehow familiar," Marle grins, looking at me and Frog.  
  
I ignore her, turning my gaze over the four ghosts.  
  
"You wouldn't possibly have any information to share about these dreams I've been having?" I ask,  
  
with a grain of sharpness in my voice.  
  
Mother lets go of Schala and shakes her head.  
  
"No Janus, none of us have anything to do with that. Yet, I have been watching."  
  
Oh, that really brought me into a much better mood. I turn back to Molor clenching my teeth to  
  
fight back the feeling of bitterness that someone more has seen me that weakened.  
  
"It couldn't have happened to you," mother calmly says, as if reading my mind, "you are far too  
  
strong."  
  
I don't answer. But to hear those words, true or not, lit up some dark part of the shame.  
  
"It's true that we don't know anything about the dreams," mother continues, "but somebody else  
  
who's not here suggested that they perhaps are caused by your many journeys through time."  
  
"That my mind somehow caught up with another path, so to speak?" I ask, looking up at her again.  
  
"It's a possible theory, isn't it?" she says, shrugging her shoulders.  
  
"I have to agree on that."  
  
Lizard holds up his left hand, examining it. Looking closer, I notice that he's slowly turning a little  
  
more transparent.  
  
"Well then, my friends," the king of Mystics says with a slightly sad smile, "it seems as if we're  
  
considered unneeded down here now. Warrior, mind your manners."  
  
The purple monster rolls his eyes, but when he speaks it's with another smile.  
  
"Goodbye. It was really fun."  
  
"Listen to him," Magician sighs, so faded that I'm able to see the cliffs behind him, "now he  
  
thinks that it was amusing."  
  
He shakes his head, smiling.  
  
"My blessings, humans and... similar," he says with a wink of his eye.  
  
"You were the one who doubted in Lizard's chances of taking care of the dragon's curses,"  
  
Warrior points out.  
  
Their voices are still to be heard as they turn into sparkling contours and disappear up through the  
  
stone ceiling.  
  
"You weren't too enthusiastic either."  
  
"And you still owe me twenty gold pieces."  
  
"What are you going to do with gold if you're dead?"  
  
"Why would you want to keep any if you're dead?"  
  
They are gone.  
  
Lizard's scythe dissolves in his grip as he reach up to massage his forehead.  
  
"You know, I'm the one who has to spend the eternity with those two..."  
  
"I have noticed that you turn to Snake for help when they become too much for you," mother points  
  
out with a laugh.  
  
Lizard tiredly smiles and shakes his head, his gaze going over us living people.  
  
"Fare well," he says as he looses his body more and more, "I look forward to seeing you again."  
  
"Goodbye," I say with a small smile.  
  
As Lizard comes to the roof, he reaches out his arms and pulls the Masamune free from the stone's  
  
grip. The sword floats down into Frog's grateful hand. It seems as if he has made peace with his blade  
  
once again. I guess that's a good thing.  
  
Mother smiles carefully.  
  
"We will meet again, therefore I don't want to say goodbye," she says and begins to ascend.  
  
"Until we meet again, then," I say, not calling.  
  
I know that she can hear me anyhow, no matter if I speak or merely think the words.  
  
That's my mother, after all. Not the Queen Zeal I killed with Frog and Crono's help.  
  
Schala waves after the disappearing ghost, a warm smile tickling her lips.  
  
"Be well, grandmother!" Schaliya calls and waves with both her small hands.  
  
"Take care!" mother smiles.  
  
She's gone.  
  
"How utterly mystifying..." Lashey mumbles, absentmindedly caressing her snake's head with a  
  
fingertip.  
  
Intruding, silly little...  
  
I grit my teeth, trying to ignore her presence completely.  
  
'I, for one, do not find it amusing,' Molor mutters with a shudder.  
  
My only true ally in this matter, perhaps...  
  
"Maybe it's just me who finds this place rather uncozy," Lucca says, "but I'd be really glad if you  
  
would find in your heart to get us away from here, Janus."  
  
"I think I can manage."  
  
I straighten up and throw a glance at Lashey with an inner sigh. Then I put my fingertips together  
  
and start to chant the teleportation spell. 


	13. Time to check on the Pawn again

1 ~*~Chapter 13 A turn for the worse or the better?~*~  
  
The emperor even rushes from his throne in surprise, the guards draw their swords and the many  
  
servants either back in shock or lift their hands for protection or battle as a powerful light explodes  
  
from thin air.  
  
"Thy power is great, Lord Janus," Lashey says with a smile that in my view is similar to the sound of  
  
a claw against a plate.  
  
"Lashey!" the emperor gasps.  
  
"Princess?" several others call in surprise.  
  
Lashey moves over to her father and takes his hands. I suppose that their strict courtesy forbids  
  
greater show of emotions even when the daughter has been imprisoned by a dragon.  
  
Even I find that sickening, throwing a glance at Schaliya.  
  
"I was saved by these brave heroes lead by Lord Janus," the princess smiles.  
  
"Pha!" I snort, perhaps mostly angered because it's she who says it.  
  
"Thee said it best," Frog nods with a roll of his eyes.  
  
The emperor makes Lashey move aside by moving his hands that are holding hers.  
  
'Fall on your knees and find yourself without legs,' I silently snap at Cered.  
  
'But brother, 'tis the emperor!' my brother in law groans.  
  
'And I am serious.'  
  
"I thank thee, warriors," the emperor says, "be there anything that I can do to repay thee?"  
  
"Marry off your daughter to a nobleman of this town. Good day," I coldly say and begin to chant even  
  
before Cered has time to attack me.  
  
As we enter the small town square of the village where our family lives, however, my brother in  
  
law has the time.  
  
"Brother, hast thee not a grain of mercy?!" he growls.  
  
"No," I reply.  
  
"Why dost thee not simply run thy scythe through my chest and get it over with... being rude to the  
  
emperor!"  
  
"I dost not like the emperor either," Schaliya says, wrinkling her nose, "he emits cold air."  
  
"And now he hast devasted my daughter too," Cered moans, "this fair land is falling to pieces."  
  
Schala begins to laugh. Marle joins in after a moment, followed by Crono and Lucca. To the sound  
  
of Frog's chuckling, my sister wraps her arms around Cered's neck and kisses his cheek.  
  
"Grieve not, my love," she says with a twinkling of teasing mischief in her eyes, "we must see to it that  
  
our friends receive the bright news and then prepare a celebration for victory."  
  
"Will I get to stay up late?" Schaliya happily asks.  
  
I look down at her for a moment. Then I bend down and pick her up, letting her sit on my right  
  
arm, leaning against my chest.  
  
"Yes, you will," I tell her with a smile.  
  
"Awesome!" she laughs.  
  
As she throws her arms around my neck she can't notice the killing glare I send towards Lucca.  
  
The inventor dives in behind Frog, causing him to laugh even more.  
  
Even though the village hasn't even fully recovered from Charash's first attack, the people here are  
  
able to build up quite a celebration anyhow. It's even bigger than Schala and Cered's wedding.  
  
"This is great!" Lucca cheers, her cup crashing into Glenn's.  
  
"Ayla should be here!" Marle sighs, leaning against Crono.  
  
The young man's arm seems to have sneaked around her shoulders, but she seems only pleased  
  
when finding out.  
  
"I think she's better off in her own time," I coldly say.  
  
Not really irritated, but I do remember what I got to know about Ayla and myself last time there  
  
was a big party in this village.  
  
"Don't be such a bore, Janus!" Lucca grins.  
  
Schala and Cered are dancing somewhere inside of the crowd. This really seems familiar; there are  
  
just a few people, a master of war and a robot missing and it would be almost exactly like the  
  
wedding. I wonder what they'll unveil to me this time...  
  
Molor is under the table, crawled up by my feet and sleeping. It's been a long day. There have  
  
actually been a lot of long days lately. Even those two that I was unconscious.  
  
It's close to midnight, the village is lit up only by torches on poles and the half moon high above  
  
the treetops.  
  
I hear a yawn to my left, and Schaliya sleepily leans at me.  
  
"Want to sleep, little one?" I ask her.  
  
"No, just a while longer..." she mumbles, her eyes closed.  
  
"Hmm."  
  
With a small smile that I can't help off I carefully lift her from the long bench and start to walk  
  
away from the celebrating. Molor awakes by my movement and crawls after me as I enter Schala and  
  
Cered's house. He's more asleep than awake, though. It almost surprises me that he manages to get  
  
up the stairs. When I go into Schaliya's room, my kindred spirit continues ahead. I can by no means  
  
blame him, understanding his exhaust.  
  
I push the blanket aside and place my small niece in her bed.  
  
"Uncle Janus..." she mumbles.  
  
"Yes?" I say, straightening up after draping the blanket around her.  
  
"Would you be very mad if I marry Glenn when I grow up?" she mumbles, half asleep.  
  
It takes me a moment to answer.  
  
"No," I finally say, calmly, "but I would have to cut him in very small pieces."  
  
She giggles sleepily.  
  
"Thou art so cool, uncle..."  
  
"And I'll have to slice up Lucca too, tomorrow morning. Good night."  
  
"Good night..."  
  
I exit her room, shaking my head. That child...  
  
Molor sleeps again, now on the floor of my room. As usual.  
  
For a while I was afraid that our alliance was lost. But he's still around.  
  
A true relief.  
  
I stretch out a little, feeling rather stiff now that I have begun to relax after all that's been  
  
happening lately.  
  
Dalton's son...  
  
I roll my eyes.  
  
Very well.  
  
As I take off my cloak I mumble a spell of silence, cutting off the laughter and music from outside.  
  
Then I lie down in my bed and close my eyes.  
  
Now I have time to concentrate on one task again.  
  
When I relax all the events in the past day rush down on me, bringing complete exhaust.  
  
I fall asleep.  
  
Give me another dream, then. I am ready.  
  
"Hurry! Damn it!"  
  
I rush into another room, having to halt violently not to fall into a pond of molten metal. There are  
  
a few statues rising from it, standing on the same kind of almost unbreakable iron that the rest of the  
  
Ocean Palace is made of.  
  
Crono, Marle and Lucca almost crash into me from behind, but manage to stop in time.  
  
"There must be buttons operating a bridge!" Lucca growls, wildly looking around.  
  
"There's no time!" I snarl.  
  
Damn Dalton! His mind is a gift of the underworld!  
  
"What'll happen to you if they kill the prince?" Marle gasps, trying to regain her breath.  
  
"I don't know, this is another time stream! History has been too twisted!"  
  
Damn Dalton!  
  
He figured Schala wouldn't work even for queen Zeal after all I had said about Lavos. So the  
  
accursed general took the little prince with him too. Should Lavos kill him... I have no idea.  
  
I remember this room... we're so close!  
  
"We're almost there, I know it!" I snarl.  
  
Crono asks me if I can make it over somehow.  
  
"Maybe," I say, frowning as I measure the width of the small lake.  
  
The young man grimly tells me to go ahead, if possible. I grimly nod.  
  
"Very well."  
  
They move aside as I hurry a few yards back into the corridor to gain momentum. Then I run and  
  
leap with all my might.  
  
For a moment I fear to miss. But then I land safely on the other side. I look around.  
  
"Don't worry about us!" Marle calls, "hurry on, we're catching up with you!"  
  
"Until we meet again, then!" I call back and run into the next open doorway.  
  
I enter a large room, yet it's smaller than the last one. There are only two flows of metal ahead,  
  
though, and they're not blocking the way. They're decorating the sides of a smaller path leading to  
  
another door.  
  
He's here.  
  
Dalton is here, I can feel his presence even though he's trying to hide.  
  
My lips draw back from my teeth for a moment.  
  
Dalton, my father... he's prepared to kill both me and Schala to achieve immortality.  
  
Eternal life is worthless in compare to Schala!  
  
For a moment I hesitate.  
  
No.  
  
I haven't got time for him!  
  
Pretending unable to know that he's hiding in the room I rush on and leave it behind me. Hiding  
  
from me... he's afraid after all.  
  
One moment's shock, that was all I gave him. And during that time he grabbed the prince too, and  
  
teleported himself, the little me and my precious sister out of the cave. We hunted him to the Zeal  
  
palace, but there a few battles halted us enough for him to escape further. I mustn't be too late this  
  
time, I have to stop...  
  
The Mammon machine.  
  
Queen Zeal is standing beside Schala, who's chanting with tears in her beautiful eyes. The queen's  
  
eyes are like ice. Behind her one of Dalton's ninjas stand, holding a desperately struggling little  
  
Janus.  
  
"You know what he said! Stop...!" the prince screech.  
  
The queen coldly looks around, and the ninja forcefully presses his hand over the prince's mouth.  
  
The boy wriggles in pain, but can't get free.  
  
A few Enlightened ones are there, almost all of them nervously glancing at the struggling prince  
  
and the crying princess.  
  
I hardly feel the ground below my feet.  
  
"Schala! Stop!" I growl, already touched by an intense, dark power.  
  
Only a brief taste of Lavos... and I'm still far away.  
  
Schala spins at me, her mouth open in a silent, helpless cry for help. Her brother... that little me is  
  
being held hostage. Just as I suspected.  
  
"Schala, keep chanting!" the queen demands.  
  
"Zeal, you don't know what you're doing!" I shout, standing frozen on the bridge leading over to the  
  
machine and the nervous crowd.  
  
"Who are you, who dares to disrupt the work of Zeal?" the queen snaps.  
  
"I am Janus, Zeal!" I growl, "I am Schala's brother!"  
  
"You're mad," she snorts, "Schala, keep rising the Mammon machine's power or your little brother  
  
dies."  
  
"Mother..." Schala groans, tears flooding from her cheeks.  
  
"She isn't our mother, Schala!" I call, desperately feeling the dark power drawing closer, "our  
  
mother is dead!"  
  
The Enlightened ones stare at me, but the queen only watches me coldly.  
  
"Leave, imposter. You have no right to be here," she coldly says.  
  
I open my mouth to snap back, but my throat turns into a knot as I see what's happening to the  
  
prince.  
  
A black hole opens in thin air behind him. It's only a growing opening now, but in a few seconds  
  
it'll...  
  
"No!"  
  
My feet doesn't touch the ground, I throw the Enlightened ones and even queen Zeal aside as I  
  
dash through the air, reaching out...  
  
The ninja recoils in surprise at my charging, dropping the prince. Immediately he's being drawn  
  
into the Gate, his eyes wide open in fear and his numb lips apart as he tries to scream without  
  
succeeding.  
  
He's out of...  
  
I get a hold of his wildly flapping robe.  
  
"I'll come back, Schala!" I shout, looking around but only finding the flashing darkness.  
  
I can only hope that she heard me.  
  
The prince stumbles before I can get a safer grip of him, and the Gate opens up before us. I stagger  
  
out of the darkness, my fingers loosing the prince's robe. I stumble and fall by the speed, somehow  
  
turning over as I fall.  
  
The back of my head hits something hard, and black stars begin to dance before my eyes. They  
  
seem to cut through my whole body, piercing my lunges...  
  
"Where are we?!" I hear the boy harshly whisper, desperately confused and lost, "wake up!"  
  
I feel his small hands on my shoulder, but I can't...  
  
"Where the heck did you come from?" a hoarse, piercing voice gasps.  
  
My fading mind turns over itself.  
  
No! Ozzie!  
  
The boy's hands leave me. I can hardly hear him at all as he screeches:  
  
"What do you want?! Leave me alone!"  
  
"Fascinating..." Ozzie's voice says.  
  
The last thing I hear is that accursed demon's order.  
  
"Get both of them!"  
  
No...  
  
Ugh.  
  
I slowly raise my head, blinking to regain my sight. My neck seems almost out of control for the  
  
moment being, therefore I can't shake my head to get my senses back.  
  
It's so dark... only a lonely, dirty candle lit up a small, just as dirty room.  
  
My throat thickens.  
  
Back here!?  
  
No, no, no... I take in a deep breath. It's not here, I'm not the Pawn of the Mystics. It's just the  
  
same damn room I used to have. But the hay I had as a bed isn't there.  
  
Oh.  
  
They didn't plan to have me sleeping, I guess. Not yet.  
  
My feet are on the floor, but I'm still more hanging than standing. Irons encircle my wrists, and  
  
that they don't feel very cold shows that I have been trapped there for a while.  
  
By the powers... the boy! Oh no, if he's awoken earlier...!  
  
I straighten up to the sound of clinking chains, clenching my teeth as I try to assemble my strength.  
  
Or focus... whatever I manage first will do, I have to save him!  
  
The door suddenly opens, and I blink at a magical flame. Its light dance over the room and the  
  
visitor. My teeth almost crush each other.  
  
"Well, well," Flea smirks, "even the big boy's awake."  
  
The words cut through my head.  
  
"The boy...?" I harshly stutter, my throat so dry that I hardly can produce any sound.  
  
"You mean the kid?" Flea says with another sneer, "he's having a talk with Ozzie right now."  
  
No!  
  
My teeth and lips fall away from each other, unable to create my scream of anguish.  
  
"Such a face you're making," my magic teacher says, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"You demon, Flea..." I growl, balling my bound hands into fists.  
  
He frowns.  
  
"How do you know my name?" he demands.  
  
I almost start to laugh, bitterly. But I manage to fight it back.  
  
"I'd tell you if I had the time," I snarl, "but right now I have more urgent business."  
  
"You actually don't think that you're going to..." Flea scornfully begins.  
  
The wall behind me makes a cracking sound, and the magician's eyes grow. He raises his hand...  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Ice!"  
  
The aching back of my head is forcefully hit by a cold rock, and my strength slips away with my  
  
weakened consciousness.  
  
How could I be such a fool?!  
  
Ugh... 


	14. Their names are Janus!

1 ~*~Chapter 14 Payback~*~  
  
The next thing I know is that a few liters of water hit my burning head. Spitting and gasping for air  
  
I straighten up my neck again.  
  
The whole collection of masters. Lovely... and the prince is crouching in a corner of the room, as  
  
far away from everything as he can get. He stares at me in terror, I can see a dark stream blemishing  
  
the side of his robe. Too late... I am so sorry...  
  
The weight and clinking sound tells me that there's even more chains keeping me bound now. And  
  
there are several goblins and heavily armed freelancers outside of the room, too.  
  
This attempt to change fate seems to have taken a turn for the worse.  
  
"We have plenty of time," Flea says, crossing his fine arms, "and this should be interesting."  
  
I darkly glare at him, then I turn to Ozzie and last Slash.  
  
For a moment I'm about to spit on the floor, but a movement behind the three monsters in charge  
  
makes my mind revolt and almost force me to recoil.  
  
A goblin holding a red, glowing whip.  
  
I clench my teeth, forcing back my instinctive fear.  
  
No. I mustn't let them conquer me again. No matter how dark things look now, I must find a way  
  
out. I must save that boy at all costs, I can't let my story repeat! I have to win some time to recover,  
  
then maybe...  
  
Just some time... I fear that it won't be enough. I haven't eaten since before I met Schala, and I'm  
  
still dizzy after the two hits in my head.  
  
I have to try... anything. Even the truth.  
  
"It's not that complicated," I harshly whisper, unable to speak louder, "that boy over there is me as a  
  
child."  
  
All of the monsters watch me with disbelief.  
  
"You're out of your mind," Slash says, frowning deeply.  
  
"Slash, you tried to teach me how to handle a sword," I coldly whisper, "I never became very good at  
  
it, though."  
  
The swordsman almost takes a step backwards, watching me with that sharp look that always tried  
  
to cut through my tortured soul. I don't allow it to hurt me now, though.  
  
"Flea, you taught me all you knew about magic and more," I go on, "and Ozzie..."  
  
I manage to assemble enough power to snort scornfully.  
  
"I guess you never did anything except watching and commanding."  
  
"How does the spell of Dark Mist go?" Flea sharply asks.  
  
Oh, by the powers... don't start with that again...  
  
I fight back the terror filled memories and with clenched teeth mutter in old Zealan.  
  
Evil.  
  
Cloud.  
  
Break.  
  
Corrode.  
  
Tear apart.  
  
Flea is silent as I stop muttering.  
  
"Well?" Ozzie demands.  
  
"Perfect," the magician mutters, frowning, "how about second level Lightning?"  
  
I hold back a groan.  
  
"I spent ten years of my life with your questions, Flea," I harshly whisper, "I knew it all after that, so  
  
let me be now."  
  
"If he's speaking the truth we obviously should have taught him some better manners," Slash coldly  
  
says.  
  
This time I can hardly fight back a bitter, surely maniac laughter. Manners, manners, manners...  
  
how I should behave was all you talked and beat me about, curse it all!  
  
Win time, talk! I have to gain more time!  
  
"You want proof of that I grew up among you?" I growl, "should I tell you about Lizard, the first  
  
king of Mystics?"  
  
Now that startles them. No human can probably remember that story, but it's a sacred part of the  
  
monsters' history. It's a tiny pleasure to see them all really taken aback.  
  
"Lizard, an enslaved monster serving a human named Sorden. When a female monster named Snake  
  
was going to be punished because Sorden's son was crying when she was watching him Lizard tried  
  
to escape with her. But they were caught, yet as he was about to be executed an outlaw monster with  
  
knowledge of magic, Magician, saved both him and Snake. During their escape, hunted down by  
  
Sorden's cousin Lardon, another refugee came to their help; an escaped gladiator named Warrior.  
  
Magician, Warrior and Lizard were your ancestors. Should I continue? I know the whole story  
  
because Flea thought that I should know the history of those I served."  
  
My voice hardly exists by now, strained to its limits.  
  
Ozzie, Flea and Slash exchange glances twisting with questions and thoughts. Even the goblins and  
  
freelancers do the same.  
  
They aren't looking at me!  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Fire..." I whisper, but no sound leaves my hardly  
  
moving lips.  
  
It's scarcely even breathing as I chant.  
  
Nail.  
  
Hot.  
  
Cut.  
  
I bend my little fingers behind the irons so that the fingertips touch the metal. Careful...  
  
There are irons around my ankles too. I never thought about using my heels for leading magic, but  
  
right now I just have to invent that technique. Go through my boots without burning the leather, don't  
  
let them catch fire...  
  
"But tell us then," Ozzie slowly says, counting as usual, "how did you manage to come from the  
  
future?"  
  
I have to almost violently clear my dry throat in order to speak. Just a little more time!  
  
"About thirteen years from now a group of time travelers will show up," I mutter with a cold smile,  
  
"meeting them was a turn for the better for me."  
  
"And why did you return?" Ozzie asks.  
  
A growl runs through my throat.  
  
"Isn't that obvious?" I harshly snap, "you never were the smartest, of course..."  
  
Flea's hand shots forward and grabs my chin even before Ozzie has time to turn pale of anger. I  
  
know that grip, but I can't help trying to break free in tired rage. The pink monster's fine fingers are  
  
like iron, impossible to budge.  
  
"Now, now," the female looking monster says, soft as silk, "you're not exactly in a situation where  
  
disrespect is healthy. If you've been living with us and you truly are Magus, then you should know that."  
  
"My name is Janus!" I snarl.  
  
Ozzie throws a glance at the shivering prince.  
  
"It's really him," the fat monster mutters, "fascinating..."  
  
Almost... done...  
  
I can feel the irons around my ankles budge and melt. My magic heat can't harm me, but I have to  
  
be very careful. Should one chain fall before the others, while I'm still bound, the Mystics will have  
  
time to stop my escape again.  
  
"I have a bad feeling about this," Slash says, grimly crossing his arms, "I say we kill him."  
  
"Which one?" Ozzie absentmindedly says, watching me in a disgustingly measuring way.  
  
Slash catches the tone in his leader's voice and rolls his eyes. Typically Ozzie... won't throw  
  
anything away if it's still interesting in some way.  
  
Fool.  
  
Just a little longer...  
  
"You never answered my question properly," the green monster says with a small sneer.  
  
I find a bitter smile on my lips.  
  
"I came to save the boy," I coldly say, "is it that hard to understand, you idiot?"  
  
Flea's nails cut into my cheeks, I wriggle more of anger than pain even though it burns.  
  
Now!  
  
With a hoarse growl I tear my hands free and throw the surprised Flea aside, rushing forward and  
  
thereby freeing my ankles from the molten irons.  
  
My fist hits Slash's face before he has time to draw his sword, with a flame of contentment I feel  
  
his nose crush aside, hear his snarling of surprised agony.  
  
I reach out for the boy in the corner while I'm still dashing through the room, he desperately hold  
  
his hands aloft, trying to get a grip of me before...  
  
The goblin hits my back with the devilish whip, lighting agony even though my cloak and back  
  
plate of hard leather stop the worst hit. I crash on the floor with a roar of pain trying to cleave its way  
  
through my throat. The pain itself isn't as bad as all the spinning memories it awakes. Hours upon  
  
hours of the same pain smash down into my mind, all at once. My soul twitch, splitting... I can't think  
  
properly...  
  
I hear the boy's weak yelp of horror, the sound of heavy footsteps...  
  
No!  
  
The memories keep whirling around, edges of burning torture scratching my writhing mind...  
  
The boy!  
  
With a growl I force myself to brace my mind, tearing an image of Schala into the pain's way. I  
  
reach out a hand, the boy grabs it as if it was the last grain of hope left in his life. Which it truly is.  
  
"The Pawn of the Mystics is dead!" I snarl, throwing my other hand at the approaching monsters,  
  
"powers of the world, lend me the power of Lightning!"  
  
Bolt!  
  
It's as simple as it possibly can get, but I haven't any time to chant.  
  
The few bolts of lightning coming from my fingertips surprise the monsters just enough to give me  
  
a moment...  
  
Travel.  
  
There.  
  
The first place coming to my mind is the Zenan Bridge. Anything!  
  
I fall out of the flashing light of long teleportation, holding the boy's hands in a safe grip. The grass  
  
feels so soft, a blessing... I could laugh if I wasn't so exhausted.  
  
I sit up on my knees, taking the prince's shivering shoulders in my hands. The back of his robe is  
  
torn, blood has stained it. The wounds are still open. Only three, though... not as bad as I feared.  
  
"It's alright," I say in a low, hoarse voice, "I won't let them harm you again."  
  
He's shivering, of pain and remaining shock.  
  
"Wh-what happened to you...?" he weakly whispers, stuttering.  
  
I begin to shake my head.  
  
"Tell me!" he screeches, trembling even worse.  
  
For a moment I silently watch him. Then I slowly reach up and loosen the laces on my shoulders,  
  
which hold up my chest- and back plate. I don't have to release those by my waist; able to bend the  
  
hard leather downwards to unveil my collection of scars.  
  
The prince falls to the ground, tears of shock streaming into the autumn grass. Silently I secure my  
  
plates again, then rather awkwardly lift the trembling boy in my arms and wrap my torn cloak around  
  
him. I don't know anything about children, not even this boy who is me. But I remember how Schala  
  
used to comfort me when I was even smaller than he is now. I'm careful not to touch his wounds.  
  
"It's alright," I mutter again as he helplessly cries against my chest, "it won't happen to you."  
  
Funny... I can't remember crying like he did. Perhaps I was too desperate.  
  
"Sch-Schala...?" he stutters.  
  
"I don't know," I sigh.  
  
I look down at him, and he turns his pale face at me. Tears are freely streaming from his red eyes.  
  
"But listen," I grimly say, "I'm going to look for her as soon as I know that you're safe."  
  
"I want to look for her too..." he whispers, raising an arm and resolutely rubbing away the tears from  
  
his face, "and Adolfus..."  
  
I nod.  
  
"Yes, I understand. But in order to do that, you have to grow stronger."  
  
"But..." he begins.  
  
"I understand how you feel," I gravely say, "but in order to help Schala, you have to become stronger  
  
and meet those time travelers I was talking about."  
  
He looks at me with pain in his eyes.  
  
"Thirteen years?" he groans, but he has stopped crying.  
  
I nod with a sigh.  
  
"Yes, Janus," I say.  
  
How utterly peculiar it feels to call someone by my own name. I manage to get to my feet, looking  
  
northwards. Past the bridge is the capital of Guardia, Truce. Dorino to the east is closer by, but it's  
  
also closer to the Mystics and will be temporarily engulfed in the war. It's several years away, and  
  
I'm not even sure if it'll go exactly as I remember it now that the Mystics haven't got their finest  
  
warrior. But I won't take any chances.  
  
Clenching my teeth against my own exhaust I begin to walk over the great bridge, carrying the  
  
little Janus.  
  
"What can we do?" he mutters, not even sobbing anymore.  
  
There's a determination in his voice that startles me. But at the same time, it fills me with a warm,  
  
strengthening feeling of triumph. I know now that this boy might grow even stronger than I am,  
  
because he will fight by own will. A smile is on my lips as I speak.  
  
"I will explain my whole story to you, and what I think needs to be done. But first we have to find  
  
someone who can take care of your wounds."  
  
He groans weakly, perhaps the shock had made him forgot about the pain.  
  
"Hold on a little while longer," I tell him, "I don't know anything about healing, but we should be  
  
able to find someone in town."  
  
I think about it for a moment.  
  
"Now this is important," I tell him without slowing down the slightest, "I think it's best that the  
  
humans here doesn't know that we are the same person, and neither that you're a prince from the  
  
past. People might react strangely at such facts."  
  
"From the past?" he whispers, his voice weaker again.  
  
I gravely nod.  
  
"That black hole that we went through is called a Gate," I explain, "it's a portal to other times. This  
  
is 587 AD, over twelve thousand years from the kingdom of Zeal."  
  
"By the powers of Lavos..." he weakly groans.  
  
I look down at him, raising my eyebrows.  
  
"You better not talk about Lavos either, he's completely forgotten by now," I tell him.  
  
"Dead?" he asks, and there's a grain of angered disappointment in his voice.  
  
"No," I say, "he's only sleeping, deep below the surface of the Earth. But in a distant future he'll  
  
awaken and smash all civilization. That's what those time travelers try to stop him from doing."  
  
The prince grimly nods.  
  
"What happened to Schala and the rest of Zeal?" he wonders.  
  
I shake my head.  
  
"I don't know, but Zeal is forgotten now, just as Lavos. Me, I mean you and me, were thrown  
  
through time, and so were the three Gurus. Therefore I'm certain that Schala also can be found  
  
somewhere, lost in history."  
  
"Halt, stranger!"  
  
I look up. Were they guarding the north end of the bridge even before the war? Three Guardia  
  
soldiers watch me suspiciously as I come over the bridge.  
  
"What business do you have here?" one of them asks as I don't stop walking.  
  
"We were attacked by monsters," I grimly say, my voice still hoarse since it hasn't gotten any rest  
  
or water, "this child is injured."  
  
The prince looks around at the soldiers and then resolutely hides his face against my chest again as  
  
I move my cloak aside to unveil the three long wounds on his back. The three men look at the  
  
bleeding, thick lines in shock.  
  
"Would the monsters even beat a child?!" another one of them hisses.  
  
"He needs some care," I say, emotionless.  
  
"Indeed," the third soldier grimly says, throwing an angered glance at the east's island, "come, I'll  
  
bring you into town."  
  
What were those words again? I guess I should...  
  
"Thank you."  
  
The three of them smile a little.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
I follow the third one up the hills into Truce while wrapping my cloak around the prince again,  
  
protective.  
  
"Where were you attacked, and by how many, by the way?" the soldier asks, walking beside me.  
  
"A couple of imps and Ozzie," I mutter before considering it.  
  
I need to rest, obviously...  
  
The man startles.  
  
"Ozzie?" he stutters, "you mean the leader of the Mystics?"  
  
"Green, fat, stupid," I mutter through clenched teeth.  
  
The soldier silently watches me and the boy for a moment. Then he clears his throat.  
  
"Perhaps you should report to His Majesty?" he says, a bit nervously.  
  
I hold back a sigh. Well done, brother of Schala, well done.  
  
On the other hand...  
  
Hmm.  
  
"Very well, but I want to see to that this boy gets a doctor's help first," I finally reply.  
  
"There's healing quarters in the castle too," the soldier says, carefully.  
  
I shrug my shoulders.  
  
"Alright, then."  
  
We turn and walk over to the distant road leading into Guardia forest, over a meadow fading in the  
  
growing autumn.  
  
"What are you doing?" the boy whispers.  
  
'I'll have to leave you here to look for Schala,' I tell him through telepathy, 'but first I have to see to  
  
that you're safe from the Mystics until you're strong enough to fight.'  
  
He says nothing.  
  
Somebody comes walking out of the forest.  
  
A young boy, perhaps eleven or twelve years old. He's blond and dressed in simple, common  
  
clothes. Tall for his age, too.  
  
Behind him is an even younger boy, nine or ten. He's much shorter and is angrily rubbing his face  
  
with his sleeve. His red brown hair is swaying as he moves his head.  
  
I frown as I look at them. They seem somehow familiar.  
  
As they come closer I see that the smaller one has bruises on his arms and blood from his nose  
  
has stained his sleeve. It seems as if he's been into a fight.  
  
"Good afternoon, you two," the soldier says, trying not to look at the beaten boy.  
  
"Hello," the younger one snarls, staring at the ground.  
  
"Good afternoon, Andrew," the older calmly says.  
  
He turns to me and the prince, puzzled. I watch him for a moment without a word.  
  
By the powers...  
  
"How are you?" the soldier asks, carefully.  
  
"My hero Cyrus came to save the day again!" the small boy bitterly snarls.  
  
Just as I thought. Such a twist of irony.  
  
"Glenn..." Cyrus says, frowning.  
  
The younger boy stares at the ground, clenching his jaw. I look at him, a frown growing into my  
  
forehead.  
  
Strange... just a few years older and he could look just like Crono... could Frog be the boy's  
  
ancestor?  
  
I clench my teeth, realizing that if that's true, then I must see to that Frog turns back into a human.  
  
Otherwise Crono can't be born. The amphibian can't exactly get married while he looks like that.  
  
One thing at the time. First I have to take care of this boy, then I must find a way to open a Gate and  
  
return to fight Lavos. After that I'll search for Schala. Then...?  
  
Lovely.  
  
"You have to talk to your parents about the kids bullying you, Glenn," Andrew grimly says.  
  
The boy says nothing. Andrew sighs.  
  
"Well, we have to get going," he says, "see you."  
  
"Good day," Cyrus says.  
  
I say nothing. It's tempting, but I don't say anything.  
  
All of us start walking towards our goals again.  
  
'That boy with the red hair is one of the time travelers,' I tell the prince.  
  
'Is he?' he mumbles, a bit disbelieving.  
  
'Now I don't know how it'll be, but in my story Cyrus became a great hero of this land. Together  
  
with Glenn he went on a quest to slain Ozzie. I killed him, however.'  
  
The prince's hands squeeze my shoulders, and I hear him hold his breath for a moment.  
  
'Furthermore,' I continue, 'I turned Glenn into a frog.'  
  
'A frog?'  
  
'Ozzie thought it would be fun,' I mutter, 'like this.'  
  
I send him a mental image of the short, green warrior. He squeezes my shoulders again.  
  
'But that probably won't happen since you won't serve the Mystics,' I grimly tell him.  
  
'Maybe I should... get to know him,' Janus mutters, reluctantly, 'since we'll fight Lavos together.'  
  
I almost, almost smile.  
  
'You don't have to do that at once,' I say, 'but in the long term it might help.'  
  
The tree's surround us, I...  
  
I awake briefly, a smile touching my lips.  
  
'Fascinating,' Molor mumbles, half asleep.  
  
'Indeed...'  
  
I turn over and close my eyes again. 


	15. He'll be an interesting wizard, that boy...

1 ~*~Chapter 15 The circle closes~*~  
  
"I have received words that you were attacked by Ozzie himself, sir," king Guardia XXI says,  
  
walking down the stair as I look up.  
  
The doctor and nurses spin around in surprise of seeing their king coming to the healing quarters.  
  
"Yes, we were," I say, tiredly wrapping the blanket over the prince's bandaged back.  
  
He turns his head, lying on his stomach not to make the wounds hurt again. He's less pale, now  
  
that there's healing ointment working on smoothing his injuries.  
  
I guess I shouldn't risk anything by being rude, but I can't force myself to rise from my chair even  
  
to greet the man I hope to persuade into giving the prince a chance of safety.  
  
He seems to calculate my state by my almost numb movements, though.  
  
"If you need to rest you can tell me later, of course," he kindly says.  
  
I ponder it for a moment. Then I shake my head, I want to take care of everything as soon as  
  
possible. Better talk to the king now, while he's still concerned about the little Janus' state.  
  
"I would like to tell you about it now, Your Majesty," I say, rubbing my forehead, "it might be  
  
urgent."  
  
"You think so?" the king says, sitting down at the empty bed beside the one that the prince is lying in,  
  
"then what do you want to tell me?"  
  
"Here, drink this," one of the nurses kindly says and offers me a glass of soft-green liquid, "it's a  
  
healing potion."  
  
I gratefully empty the glass in one gulp. My throat burns a little, then the strengthening warmth  
  
begins to spread through my whole body.  
  
"Some of what I tell you might surprise you, Your Majesty," I gravely say, "but I'll prove as much as  
  
I can."  
  
"I'm listening," the king says, a small frown appearing in his forehead.  
  
"First of all I have to show you something."  
  
I hold up my hand.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Fire."  
  
Flame.  
  
The king almost falls off the bed and the doctor, nurses and soldiers in the room recoils in shock as  
  
a small blaze appears just above my palm. I close my hand and it disappears.  
  
"I am a wizard," I say, frankly.  
  
"You don't say..." the king mumbles, his voice rather weak.  
  
"I thought that only monsters could use magic!" a soldier harshly croaks.  
  
I nod.  
  
"Normally that is the case," I say, "but there's also me and this boy here, Janus."  
  
I point at the prince. He watches me, a bit puzzled.  
  
"And you see, Ozzie hoped to catch and enslave Janus as he realized what powers the boy has," I  
  
tell the shocked humans and clench my teeth, "hoped to turn him into a pawn of the Mystics."  
  
King Guardia looks at the prince, whose face has turned pale again as he understands another part of  
  
my story.  
  
"Devilish," the king finally mutters, turning to me once more.  
  
I nod, gravely.  
  
"He's got enormous possibilities," I say, emotionless, "I once met Flea himself, and I believe that  
  
Janus might grow even stronger. But he has to recover and learn how to use his powers, grow strong  
  
safe from the Mystics. Should they be able to catch and break him down I truly fear the  
  
consequences."  
  
Indeed I do...  
  
The king grimly nods, his eyes similar to cold iron.  
  
"I see," he says.  
  
I ponder my next step for a moment.  
  
"There are a few more things," I finally say, "but I have to talk to you and Janus alone about them,  
  
Your Majesty."  
  
King Guardia hesitates for a short while. Then he looks around on the others in the room and nods.  
  
A bit distrustful, the soldiers and workers of the healing quarters leave.  
  
"What is it?" the king grimly asks.  
  
I take in a slow breath, hoping that everything will work out fine until the end.  
  
"We weren't only attacked," I tell the king, "Ozzie managed to trap us for a while, but we escaped.  
  
However I happened to hear a couple of monsters talking while we were imprisoned. From what I  
  
heard I got the belief that the Mystics are planning to start a war in a couple of years."  
  
"What?!" the king hisses.  
  
"They were talking about their weapon industry and about how well Slash would be able to plan  
  
their strategy," I go on, "it sounded as if they won't be ready in at least two years, but the threat is  
  
there."  
  
"This is very grave information that you provide," king Guardia grimly says, "are you sure about  
  
this?"  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid that it's true."  
  
The king rubs his forehead.  
  
"Dear God..." he mutters, "where can they keep their metal smiths hidden?"  
  
"Probably somewhere almost impossible to find, I fear," I say, knowing that it's true.  
  
The ironworks are hidden deep below the east mountain, and I have no idea how to get there. I  
  
never had any business in those places.  
  
King Guardia heavily sighs.  
  
"One person can't stop the Mystics alone," I slowly say, "but I hope that with my warning you'll  
  
have time to prepare. And..."  
  
I turn to Janus.  
  
'I don't want to work for anyone!' he stubbornly sends out with his thoughts, catching my point.  
  
'I know,' I calmly say, 'but you won't really be working for them. This is simply a sanctuary where  
  
you can learn how to exploit your magical powers by your own pace. And it'll give you a chance to repay  
  
Ozzie so that it really hurts him.'  
  
He ponders it for half a second, not more.  
  
'Alright then,' he finally says, still a bit unwilling but with a grain of determination that has chances  
  
of growing strong.  
  
"It might be much to ask," I say aloud, "but I can't stay here and Janus must be protected against the  
  
Mystics while he's still vulnerable."  
  
"I... I want revenge on Ozzie for what he did to me," the boy mutters through clenched teeth, "if it  
  
really comes to war I'll help fight him back."  
  
King Guardia slowly nods.  
  
"I understand," he gravely says, "if you're right about the Mystics we need all help we can get."  
  
He looks at the boy and manages to smile a little.  
  
"You can stay here in the castle, Janus," he says, "the monsters can't harm you here."  
  
"Thank you," the prince mutters, and I know that it was hard for him to say that.  
  
The king looks at me, the frown returning.  
  
"But tell me... what is your name, and why must you leave?" he asks, carefully.  
  
"I'll stay until Janus is fully recovered and teach him a few basic spells," I say, "because since his  
  
magic powers weren't awakened until today when we were attacked, he knows nothing of his gifts.  
  
Then there is someone I have to go and search for."  
  
The king nods, not asking about who I'm looking for. I suppose that he feels that it isn't his  
  
business.  
  
"Dare I ask for your name, sir?" he asks again, however.  
  
It goes by itself. I know I can't say that I'm Janus, so my brain takes a twist by its own.  
  
All by itself, and I could bite my tongue off.  
  
"I am called Magus."  
  
I feel Janus fight against startling, and I clench my teeth.  
  
"I see," the king simply says.  
  
He stands up.  
  
"Well then, you should rest now," he kindly says, "I'll see to that you won't be bothered until you  
  
have recovered."  
  
"Thank you, Your Majesty."  
  
King Guardia XII walks up the stairs and disappears through the door. I rise from my chair and lay  
  
down in the bed where he was sitting a few moments ago.  
  
"I'll be here, then..." Janus mutters.  
  
"Yes," I say in a low voice, closing my eyes, "but believe me, it could be much worse."  
  
"I believe you."  
  
"We'll talk tomorrow..."  
  
I am unable to stay awake any longer.  
  
Once again I awake briefly, another smile on my lips. Molor says nothing, sleeping soundly.  
  
It seems as if it's almost dawn out there now, weak sunrays peek inside of the room through the  
  
curtain. I shortly wonder if the celebration still goes on.  
  
I want to see the end of this.  
  
With yet a new small smile I turn against the wall and close my eyes again.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Water!"  
  
Small.  
  
Rock.  
  
Cold.  
  
A few small blocks of ice hit the big stone in the clearing. It's already burnt in several ways.  
  
"Well done," I say with a smile.  
  
Janus grins triumphantly. He's making fast progress, much faster than I did. But on the other  
  
hand, I didn't want to be taught anything. And I never got to hear any encouraging words. That seems  
  
to be a powerful treatment.  
  
"No matter how often I see it..." one of the soldiers whispers to another.  
  
The king and I agreed on having a couple of guards keeping an eye on Janus, at least until he can  
  
defend himself. And since he can already master a few spells I believe that he won't need protection  
  
for very long.  
  
"Need a rest?" I ask him.  
  
"Not yet..." he absentmindedly says, already assembling new focus.  
  
I feel proud when I look at him. He will be a pain to the Mystics, and a pain to Lavos when that  
  
day comes.  
  
Since his robe was torn he has gotten some new clothes; a pair of soft- purple pants held up by a  
  
deep-blue belt. He also wears a pair of small leather boots and a red shirt with short sleeves. I guess  
  
the tailor looked at me when he made the clothes... after all we're looking much alike. Go figure.  
  
There's some whispering about me being the boy's father or brother. I can only smile at that.  
  
"Powers of the world, lend me the power of Lightning!"  
  
It's only a week ago that he got out of bed, eager to have me teach him about his possibilities.  
  
Flea forced the knowledge into my poor mind, so I try to go slowly forwards with the boy. It's just  
  
that he seems to prefer speed in this matter. I can hardly believe that we are the same person,  
  
remembering my own education.  
  
Myself, I have been making experiments with Gates. Since I have seen and felt their power I really  
  
only have to find a suitable spell that allows me to control them. I think I might have it, but I haven't  
  
dared to enter the flashing darkness yet. There is, after all, a risk that I will be unable to return to this  
  
different time stream. And before I leave, I have to finish my job here.  
  
And frankly, there is an apparent possibility that I'll get thrown almost anywhere if something  
  
should go wrong. But I'll have to take that risk. I have to find the way back to Crono and the others to  
  
get my revenge on Lavos, and then go look for Schala.  
  
But so far, everything seems to work out better than expected here, at least. The only thing giving  
  
me a bit of trouble is my slip of tongue. It's been a hard week trying to keep from snarling that my  
  
name isn't Magus.  
  
Ah, well...  
  
"I think that's enough for today," I tell Janus, looking at the smoking stone.  
  
He sighs, but nods. Together with his two guardians we return to the castle.  
  
In his room the two of us sit down by his small table.  
  
"You're impressing me," I tell him, "I think that I can leave now."  
  
The triumph in his eyes is replaced with disbelief and unpleasant surprise.  
  
"But I don't know very much!" he points out.  
  
I watch him for a moment. Seven years old... prepared to study like mad. How often do you see  
  
that?  
  
"You know the basics and the whole story of the time travelers," I calmly say, "I'm certain that you  
  
can grow without me now."  
  
"Do you think that I'll be strong enough when the war comes?" he asks, unsurely watching his  
  
hands.  
  
"As far as I know the war won't start in two years," I tell him, "with your will it won't be any  
  
problem. Just don't do anything stupid like allowing somebody into persuading you to make a show  
  
of your powers, or attack Ozzie at first sight. Don't underestimate Flea either, he's stronger than he  
  
might seem."  
  
"I'm not as stupid as they are," the boy snorts with a small grin.  
  
I smile at that.  
  
"No, I know."  
  
Now let's see here...  
  
I point at the table and mutter a spell of recreation. I should have pointed at the floor... a few of the  
  
old scrolls I call forth fall to the ground as the table is too small.  
  
"These are the scripts that I studied," I say, "but you won't be able to read those that are too  
  
dangerous to you now."  
  
I snap my fingers, and almost all of the scrolls disappear again. Three of them stay, one of them  
  
only because I have to talk about the knowledge written down within it. Janus stands up on his chair  
  
as I unroll it. The scroll has been darkened somehow, and the words are written in white on the dark  
  
surface. I have waited, not told him these things before. I wanted to give him some time.  
  
"As you know everybody who can use magic is devoted to one of the four mystical elements, and  
  
that element is the person's greatest strength. You and me are Shadow."  
  
He frowns, looking at the old script's warning for the spells' powers.  
  
"I was evil," I say, "because I was used by it. You can abuse the dark powers and use them against  
  
themselves, just as I plan to do. Lavos is the ultimate evil, as you know."  
  
He grimly nods.  
  
"Now then," I continue and roll out the scroll to reveal the last spell in it, "this is our ultimate  
  
power."  
  
The white words of warning are twice as big as all the others.  
  
"Dark Matter?" Janus says, frowning even deeper.  
  
I nod.  
  
"It's the last spell I learned," I tell him, "I used it to kill Flea and Slash. It's extremely dangerous, as  
  
you understand. You mustn't even study it until you have mastered everything else to the fullest."  
  
He nods again, gravely. I dissolve the scroll.  
  
"Alright, these are your new projects," I say and push the two scripts left into his reach, "they're a bit  
  
stronger spells for the other elements. As you make progress, new scrolls will appear on the table."  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
A smile carefully breaks through his young, grim mask.  
  
"When you've defeated Lavos with Crono and the other's help, will you come back and see how I  
  
managed?"  
  
I have to smile.  
  
"I'll do my best, I promise. I really have to see how you do."  
  
He smiles. I ponder that he, I, almost never smiled in Zeal. But now both of us seem to do it rather  
  
often. Perhaps meeting yourself like this is healthy, after all. I feel more alive than ever before as I  
  
watch the blossoming strength within the prince.  
  
"And do remember to run ahead in the Ocean Palace to save the next generation of us," I tell him.  
  
"I certainly won't forget," he says.  
  
I rise from my chair. Now it feels painful to leave him, but I know I have to. I'm needed in my own  
  
time stream.  
  
"Good bye, Janus," he says, hesitantly.  
  
I reach out and touch his shoulder with my hand.  
  
"Until we meet again, Janus."  
  
Then I turn away and starts to mutter the spell I hope will work.  
  
Travel.  
  
Time.  
  
Far away.  
  
I concentrate on the year 12000 BC and not on this time stream, the other one...  
  
A Gate opens before me. It has worked so far in my experiments, but I have no idea if it'll take me  
  
to the right place.  
  
I throw one last glance at my silent pupil, take a deep breath and enter the darkness. Here goes...  
  
The flashing nothingness surrounds me, and I step out...  
  
I have to be completely wrong.  
  
This is a snowy island, a few primitive tents crouch close to a small forest. All around is only  
  
ocean, as far as I can see. The sun is working on the clouds above, trying to pierce them. The cold  
  
wind that should pain the world of the Earthbound ones is gone.  
  
Hmm, I better find out when I am and then try again.  
  
I start walking towards the tents.  
  
Enlightened and Earthbound ones, together?  
  
I stop dead, watching the group of people trapped in a deep discussion. The fine robes of the  
  
Enlightened ones are torn and dirty, but I know those clothes. Could I be in the right time? Then what  
  
on earth has happened here?  
  
The realization steps up, coldly.  
  
Lavos. By the powers...  
  
And what happened to Crono and the others?  
  
I hurry on towards the primal town square, where the people are assembled.  
  
Somebody sees me.  
  
"Prince Janus!"  
  
Everybody spins around to stare at me. The Enlightened ones with confusion, the Earthbound ones  
  
with relief.  
  
"You're alive!"  
  
The elder of the Earthbound village hurries over to me.  
  
"What happened?" I ask, taking his old hand between mine by instinct.  
  
His relief melts away, and he sadly shakes his head.  
  
"Ah, for better or worse the kingdom of Zeal is no more," he says, "Lavos awoke and destroyed it.  
  
This is all that remains of civilization."  
  
By the powers...! That he has such power...  
  
"And... the warriors I traveled with?" I manage to ask after a moment.  
  
He shakes his head again.  
  
"They came here," he says in a low voice, "then Dalton took them captive and brought them to the  
  
Blackbird. And that crashed in the ocean a few moments ago."  
  
My heart is wrapped up in coldness. Those that freed me...?  
  
We still have to kill Lavos!  
  
Wait, it could only have been three of them... Crono, Marle and Lucca. They were here. Three are  
  
still...  
  
My lips press together and my mind twitch in disgust at my cold counting. I'm thinking like  
  
Dalton, like my blasted father! There might be three allies left, but is that the first thing to ponder?  
  
Those people helped me! How can I think something like that?  
  
The other humans, men, women and children approach me and the elder.  
  
"Why... why did they call you prince Janus?" one of the Enlightened ones stutter, staring at my hair.  
  
"Because I am the prince," I say.  
  
It's starting to become a habit to unveil that shocking truth.  
  
The Enlightened ones stare at me.  
  
"I'm here from the future," I impatiently snap, irritated by their stupid looks, "tell me where the  
  
Blackbird crashed."  
  
"It's far below the ocean by now, I'm afr..." the elder begins.  
  
But his speaking is cut off by a sudden earthquake, so violent and surprising that it throws all of us  
  
to the ground. I see something in the corner of my eye and turn my head to the west.  
  
My throat is filled with needles.  
  
"The Ocean Palace?!" I hiss.  
  
It's floating above the endless sea? It's not meant to fly!  
  
Lavos must be at work, but why?  
  
"Heaven above us..." someone weakly groans.  
  
The tremors stop as suddenly as they came. The Ocean Palace does nothing, only floating  
  
peacefully by the horizon like a gigantic black, flashing piranha.  
  
I give, that was a very bad description. But it seems lazily deadly, so...  
  
With a curse I get up, dragging the elder along without really thinking about it.  
  
"Damn you, Lavos!" I snarl.  
  
Is there no end of his games with the human race?  
  
My breathing sounds like hisses, I let go of the elder and hurry past the many scared Enlightened  
  
and Earthbound ones, ignoring the few weak calls.  
  
To the northwest is a cape sticking out and above the water. It's not very far, and I rush there. By  
  
the end of the land I stand still, glaring at the floating Palace.  
  
Funny, Lavos? To destroy everything and tear away even more people whom I trusted?  
  
I breathe hard, clenching my fists into shaking balls.  
  
The boy...  
  
My boiling mind catches an image of the little, relieved Janus.  
  
I take a few deep breaths.  
  
Many things have gone lost, but perhaps his destiny will be brighter.  
  
Thinking about that victory I manage to calm down.  
  
The sun has pierced the clouds, already warming up the frozen world. I look down and see a small  
  
flower sticking out of the snow. It's got a strong-green trunk and blades, the petals are pure and  
  
white as the snow around it. How can a flower bloom in this cold, surrounded by the soft ice?  
  
I sit down, watching the flower. It seems to push my new despair even further away.  
  
Think clearly.  
  
Frog, Robo and that blond woman in animal hides probably don't know what has happened. I have  
  
to go to the End of Time and tell them. We have to fulfill our quest without the others... assemble the  
  
pieces and move on. Lavos mustn't be victorious.  
  
I sit there for a while. Then I stand up and face the north, refusing to look at the accursed Palace.  
  
I'll go. I just need a few more moments to calm down completely.  
  
"Janus!"  
  
I startle and spin around at the sudden shout of three voices.  
  
Marle, Lucca and Frog are running and jumping up the hill, rushing forwards beside my footsteps  
  
in the snow.  
  
They're alive!  
  
But through the relief I feel a scent of worry. I have never seen Marle without Crono before, where is he?  
  
"They said you were here but we couldn't believe...!" Lucca gasps, without slowing down the  
  
slightest.  
  
"Janus, you're alive!" the Marle shouts, leaping forward to throw her arms around my neck.  
  
I almost stumble backwards down the cliff of mere surprise.  
  
"Oh God, Janus!" the young, blond woman more or less screeches, and suddenly her wild happiness  
  
explodes in tears, "at least you're alive...!"  
  
She desperately presses herself against me, crying against my chest. Confused I sit down on my  
  
knees and make her do the same, carefully grabbing her shoulders.  
  
"What do you mean?" I ask, a dark suspicion growing in my chest.  
  
Marle tries to speak, but the words are lost in her sobs. I look up. Lucca turns away, and I see tears  
  
in her eyes too. Frog bitterly shakes his head, his hands turned into trembling fists.  
  
"Aye," the knight says in a low voice, "in order to save the people in Lavos' foul presence our dear  
  
comrade sacrificed his young, brave life..."  
  
Crono...?  
  
I turn my head at the flying Palace, my eyes turning into thin scars of rage.  
  
Wait a moment...  
  
Time streams. Maybe...  
  
I look down at the shivering Marle, carefully squeezing her shoulders.  
  
"Pull yourself together," I say, sharply yet calming, "there might be a way to get him back."  
  
She looks up at me, a wild hope being lit in her blue, tear filled eyes.  
  
"Do you think so?" she whispers.  
  
"Let's go to the End of Time and see Gaspar," I say, standing up and lifting her to her feet.  
  
I reach out a hand and begin to mumble, opening a Gate.  
  
"Cool!" Lucca says in tired amaze, "we have the Epoch, but..."  
  
Together we enter the flashing darkness, heading for the End of Time. 


	16. And the epilogue. Hope you enjoyed readi...

1 Epilogue Peace of mind  
  
"Well, I have to get going."  
  
"Where are thee heading, uncle?" Schaliya asks, her eyes twinkling.  
  
"I'm going to fetch your golden knight, of course," I smile.  
  
She laughs, or rather giggles shortly, absentmindedly swinging a pointing finger just into her little  
  
brother's reach. Janatzer happily squeaks and grabs her finger, trying to put it in his toothless mouth.  
  
I think he seems to have more red than blue hair, even though it's very hard to judge since there  
  
isn't much on his head yet. Still both my sister and brother in law insisted on naming their first son  
  
after me.  
  
By the powers, I wish that they could stop calling him their "first" son. As if I hadn't enough  
  
handling two children...  
  
"Be well, uncle," Schaliya smiles.  
  
"Greet the king and queen for us!" Schala says with a warm smile.  
  
I wave with a hand and open a Gate. Molor is right behind me.  
  
No mistakes now, nothing is disrupting me anymore.  
  
"Good afternoon," I say as I step out on the snow-covered stair leading up to the castle gate, making  
  
the guards crash backwards into the walls.  
  
"Ah... lord Magus?" one of them weakly says, "I dare to guess that you wish to see general Glenn?"  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Certainly!" he mumbles.  
  
The gates leading in and the doors inside of the castle are hurriedly opened.  
  
"Err, lord Magus is back again..." the guard announces.  
  
"Oh God, he will slain me...!" I hear Glenn squeal, fighting to hold back a laughter.  
  
King Guardia and queen Leene both seem to be struggling not to laugh as well, and so do several  
  
of the knights inside of the throne room too.  
  
"Let's hear it," I coldly say, "what are you planning now?"  
  
"What brings thee that belief?" Glenn innocently says, battling a wide grin.  
  
"Your grimaces," I point out.  
  
"What art thee speaking about?"  
  
I roll my eyes.  
  
"Is this something similar to the little event with Ayla?" I ask, bracing my mind for almost anything.  
  
"Ah..."  
  
Glenn unsheathes the Masamune, hiding his mouth behind his hand.  
  
'Watch out...' Molor mutters, just as prepared for a nasty surprise.  
  
"What on earth are you doing?" I ask Glenn, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I am following a piece of advice thee lent me a month ago," the general smiles.  
  
I haven't been here since the middle of December in their view, fetching Glenn for the celebrating  
  
of Janatzer's birth. Now it's February in this time.  
  
"The truth that shalt be spoken be something similar to the event with our prehistoric lady, I fear,"  
  
the general says, "I face the joy of marriage in a few weeks' time."  
  
"Oh, dear..." I sarcastically snort, raising an eyebrow.  
  
What has he done now?  
  
He turns to the door leading to the stairways, right of the thrones.  
  
"Show thyself, love," he says, still smiling widely.  
  
There's a soft laughter coming from above, and swift footsteps hurry down the stair.  
  
'By the sacred fire!' Molor mutters.  
  
I guess I'm staring. I can't help it.  
  
For a tenth of a second I almost believe that it's Schala. But that young, slender woman with blue  
  
hair, about twenty years old, dressed in the simple yet fine clothing of a staff carrier and with such a  
  
weapon in her hand is not my sister.  
  
"Hello, uncle," she smiles, her green, gem eyes twinkling with laughter.  
  
"Schaliya?"  
  
"Thou hath been toying with time, my comrade," Glenn grins, "a future thee brought her here some  
  
humble weeks ago."  
  
He was wise to draw his weapon.  
  
"Glenn!"  
  
Schaliya leaps in between me and the knight with a laugh.  
  
"Oh, spare him, uncle," she smiles, "'twas not completely his idea."  
  
"You were four years old when you said that you wanted to marry him!" I mutter, rubbing  
  
my forehead.  
  
"And seventeen years later I found that my childish vow carried a flower of truth," she says with  
  
another soft laughter.  
  
I watch her for a moment, feeling Molor fight against a silent chuckling. I have my suspicions  
  
about the looks of the other people in the room, but I don't care to turn my head.  
  
Finally I sigh.  
  
"I suppose that you've already had a long talk with me about this," I tiredly say.  
  
She nods.  
  
"Indeed," she smiles, "a very long talk. You said a lot of things about Glenn, but in the end  
  
thou gave in to my will."  
  
Glenn hides his mouth behind his hand, and I roll my eyes.  
  
"Wonderful..."  
  
A realization suddenly cuts through my mind, and I clench my teeth so that my jaw almost breaks.  
  
If she is here, in this time, and everybody knows that I am her uncle...  
  
Schaliya tilts her head, a frown appearing in her forehead as she obviously can sense my tension.  
  
Then she suddenly smiles carefully.  
  
'I know, uncle,' she whispers to my mind, 'thou hast told me about Magus thyself. I don't care what  
  
you hath done, thou art my uncle Janus.'  
  
Very slowly I release a deep breath, shaking my head.  
  
'I planned not to ever let you get the slightest clue, you know,' I tell her, silently.  
  
'I know. And I was shocked at first, but thee told me everything from the very beginning, and thus I  
  
can put it aside.'  
  
I smile a little.  
  
'That makes me very relieved, little one.'  
  
She smiles back, warmly.  
  
'I grew to truly love Glenn as thee brought him to visit two or three times a year in our view but only  
  
with a couple of weeks distance in his life, uncle. And he loves me. Thee will accept that.'  
  
'As if I had a choice,' I silently sigh.  
  
'Oh, thou art so cool, uncle,' she says with a glistening of mischief in her unheard voice.  
  
'Which reminds that I have to make stew of Lucca.'  
  
I reach forward and take her now grown, beautiful face between my hands, as I've always done.  
  
Why not... my reputation here is ruined completely already.  
  
"I won't bore you with anything you've already heard, little lady," I say aloud, "because I guess I've  
  
told you everything I can think of about this dark era."  
  
"Thee know thyself well, uncle," she smiles, touching one of my hands with her own.  
  
"And as far as I know it's your fifth birthday tomorrow," I report with another smile of mine, "and  
  
you really wanted Glenn to come."  
  
She laughs once more, bends forward and gives me a quick hug before moving back again.  
  
"You are smashing my torn reputation completely, Schaliya," I sigh, shaking my head.  
  
"Only fulfilling the deed thee already hath begun," she replies and sits down to touch Molor's black  
  
head as I let go of her.  
  
He hisses, smiling to the mind. Schaliya blinks at him.  
  
"I would really love to follow thee back in time," she says, straightening up, "but I have been told  
  
about the dangers of meeting thyself."  
  
"I will survive," Glenn grins, "if thy uncle dost not perform a disgraceful assault."  
  
I snort and reach out a hand, muttering the spell of time travel. Plans of returning for a longer talk  
  
with Schaliya are already growing inside of my head, but right now I'm looking forward to her  
  
birthday. One thing at the time. We can talk when I bring Glenn back.  
  
The general touches Schaliya's arm as he walks over to us, with a warm smile. She looks back, and  
  
I have to succumb to that whatever I'll tell her when she's older than I know her to be in the past, it  
  
won't save her.  
  
Good grief.  
  
The Gate opens before my hand.  
  
"One more thing, before I forget," Schaliya says as I am about to say good- bye for now.  
  
"What then?" I ask.  
  
"Do be stubborn about the body transforming spells," she says and sighs, "I'm still feeling a bit  
  
guilty for what happened to Sean."  
  
I raise my eyebrows.  
  
"You didn't turn him into a..."  
  
"A goat."  
  
"A goat?" I repeat, slightly surprised, "didn't you ask me to turn him into a tadpole?"  
  
"I did," she smiles, "but I ended up becoming rather fond of... frogs."  
  
Glenn chuckles, and I sigh.  
  
"Don't go turning people into animals, little one," I say with a roll of my eyes, "they seem to end up  
  
becoming even dreadfully closer relatives. Good bye for a while, Schaliya."  
  
"Good bye, uncle Janus."  
  
I enter the flashing darkness.  
  
"You know that I'll have to kill you," I tell Glenn as we step out just before Schala and Cered's  
  
house.  
  
"Thee said so when thee blessed me with her graceful presence to me as well," he smiles, calmly.  
  
The door opens before we can continue our talk, and my soon-to-be five year old niece rushes out.  
  
"Hello, Glenn!" she squeals and throws her short arms around his neck as he sits down on one knee  
  
with a warm smile on his lips, "I am so glad that thee came!"  
  
"So am I, Schaliya," he softly says.  
  
'I find it fascinating,' Molor says, calmly.  
  
'I guess that I have no choice but to play along,' I mutter, following Glenn as he allows Schaliya to  
  
drag him into the house.  
  
I think that's all I have to tell. This part of my story ends here.  
  
No, wait a moment. There is one more thing.  
  
One last dream.  
  
I tiredly blow on the dusty line of standing books on the endless shelve, causing a cloud of dust to  
  
dance down towards the floor far below.  
  
How long have I been searching through the library for the slightest clue? Surely a month.  
  
This library was built in the year 1106 AD, and already, 28 years later, it contains almost all  
  
important books and scrolls that have survived the history so far. After traveling randomly through  
  
time for what seemed like a grayer and grayer eternity of hopelessness I found out about this place. If  
  
there's something written about a woman with blue hair, it should be available here. If Schala was  
  
thrown into a time when script and preserving of such was invented.  
  
It's a small ray of hope, but it's there. Random time travels are fruitless.  
  
Lavos is dead, or he will be as soon as he shows up in 1999 AD.  
  
For a moment my tired thoughts drift away into a lighter stasis as I think of all that happened.  
  
A wonder; though his body was destroyed we could bring Crono back to life. I have never seen  
  
anyone as happy as Marle was...  
  
And then, after cleaning up history a bit we defeated Lavos.  
  
Among the things we did to mend our time stream we took care of what was left of queen Zeal.  
  
I purse my mouth.  
  
It wasn't her anymore. Just a puppet of Lavos.  
  
My vow is fulfilled. Now I only have to find Schala.  
  
With a sigh I turn to the shelve again. There are thousands upon thousands of books here. The  
  
librarians couldn't help me, so I have to look for myself. At least they promised to tell me if they  
  
found anything. A couple of times I have been forced to make them forget the pictures of the historic  
  
warrior knows as the Pawn of the Mystics, though.  
  
Now and then I think of the boy. I want to know how he managed in the other time flow.  
  
One day I'll find a way back there. But first I'll find Schala. I can't rest before that.  
  
Randomly I take out a book from the far-reaching line.  
  
Its cover is of dry, cracked, soft, wood, and there are pointy shadows on it. The spots lead to  
  
assuming that there might have been jewels attached to it once upon a time. The pages are yellowed  
  
by age, and it seems to be well studied. Without real enthusiasm I open it on the front cover's inside,  
  
investigating what book it is and who the author was.  
  
The neat, careful writing says:  
  
Diary of queen Leene, queen of Guardia - 585 - 662 AD  
  
This diary covers the years 595 - 603 AD, provides detailed information of the last years of the  
  
Mystic war.  
  
Hmm. What a coincidence.  
  
I hold up the book, idly allowing it to turn its pages by itself. Displaying the most studied parts.  
  
Suddenly a few words passing catch my eye as they run past, and I catch the pages.  
  
Frog. Dead. Strong magic.  
  
I know I saw it.  
  
Frowning I turn the pages. My eyebrows twitch as I read the text of the tenth of March, 601 AD.  
  
The fine writing is shaking and encircled by spots that must be tears.  
  
Today the troop my husband sent to Ozzie's old lair returned, and my heart is still frozen solid  
  
with fear from when they left their terrible rapport. I should have followed my hunch and not have let  
  
Frog lead the expedition! The soldiers told us that as soon as they landed on the beach, the ground  
  
suddenly opened and swallowed our faithful general!  
  
When they finally found Frog, inside a great cave, he was already dead. At the sight of his body,  
  
which they brought back, even I can conclude that he had suffered attacks from strong magic. The  
  
soldiers also found a message on the cave floor by poor Frog, written in his blood. It said "Let  
  
everyone know that the Mystics' great warriors were victorious in the end". If only I had stopped  
  
Frog from going there!  
  
There's a big plump of ink after the last words, seems as if the queen hadn't the nerves to dry it up.  
  
Great warriors of the Mystics killed Frog? What the...!?  
  
With a snarl I surpass the diary to the depths of my cloak and jump off the ladder I was standing  
  
on, ignoring the fact that the floor is seven feet away. I land safely, look around and begin to harshly  
  
mumble. It's a one-day sail to the capital from the island of the Mystics where Ozzie's lair was, so if  
  
they landed, found Frog and hurried back...  
  
Travel.  
  
Time.  
  
Far away.  
  
With all my might I concentrate on the ninth of March, 601 AD. Early morning, Mystics' island.  
  
That is one part of the history that I cannot accept.  
  
That's it. I think you know the rest. Ah, and not to confuse... remember that in my dreams, Ozzie's  
  
castle was on the island to the northeast of the magic cave, not further east as if it is in my real life.  
  
Therefore that Janus found and saved Frog one day later. It's not that hard to grasp, is it?  
  
There, I am done telling this story. You might ask why I bothered. I have my reasons.  
  
The end.  
  
Author taking over from Janus for the after word:  
  
I have only two things to say.  
  
1. Where did all these pages come from?!? ;) This story was violent as I wrote it.  
  
2. OK, I accept flames if they are constructive. And again, I don't own anything except the story, Lizard and his crew plus Cered, Molor, Schaliya etc… 


End file.
